Merry Fishmas and a Crabby New Year!

Hurray hurray it's Christmas, Santa is coming, mulled wine is back in the shops and I need to write a festive blog post!

Let's start with a limerick:

There was a young lady named Lins
Who said "hey, sustainable wins!"
She bought coley and mackerel,
As sustainable collateral,
And the cod ended up in the bins!

Ok that wasn't festive, unless eating a mince pie while writing it counts, in which case the project report I was writing today was very festive. And don't put cod in the bin.

How about a poem?

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Lindsay's spouse (because she is still on the shelf).
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
Hoping Santa's not opposed to big curly hair.

Lindsay was nestled all snug in her bed,
While visions of gurnard danced in her head.
She'd had a long day disreputing cod,
And had crawled into bed, thinking 'Thank God'.

From outside near her car arose such a clatter,
That she sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
To the window she flew to see what was there,
Then returned with haste when she remembered she was bare.

The new vehicle parked right next to the Skoda,
Was giving off a strong and distinctive odour.
For Santa was here to grant Lindsay her wish, 
And his sleigh had been drawn by eight sustainable fish!

With a big smile, filleting fish so quick,
She knew in a moment it must be St Nik.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Coley, now Pollack, now Whiting and Pouting!
On Gurnard, on Mullet, on Flounder and Herring!
To the top of the wood pile, to the top of the wall,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

Lindsay stood thinking 'This beggars belief',
And when they flew off breathed a sigh of relief.
St Nik with fresh fish is a welcome sight,
But not on a sleigh in the midst of the night!

But then from the roof she heard a great din,
The prancing and pawing of each little fin.
As she wound in her neck and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nik came with a bound.

In fishmonger whites from his head to his foot,
His clothes were all tarnished with fish guts and soot.
A bundle of fish he had flung on his back,
And it smelled pretty strong when he opened his pack.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled Lindsay's stocking, then turned with a jerk.
'Whoa Nik' Lindsay said, moving quickly to stop him,
I'd love some fish thanks, but not in my stocking!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his fish gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
Lindsay heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Fishmas to all, and all a good-night!"

Ah that turned out to be a bit of a Christmas ode to a fishmonger; Merry Christmas Nik and Kendal Fisheries! And if that wasn't festive enough, here is a picture of Nikki and me with our erm, Christmas sausages. Check out my hat!

The story behind the unflattering picture...It was taken recently when the Wild Oceans project journeyed to Muncaster Castle for the Taste Cumbria Christmas Festival. I was feeling pretty smug about going to this event because the rented stand space came with a fully erect market stall and thus negated the nasty necessity for me to bring our marquee (our marquee gives me rage). Hoorah. No marquee and a vat of mulled wine within slurping distance. AND we were directly opposite Santa's Grotto! Awesome. Apart from the slightly scruffy and small-looking reindeer. It turns out I am quite discerning about reindeer; the one with only one antler should not have been allowed in.

We worked with brown crab, which is simply CRABULOUS! It's landed locally at Ravenglass, but who knew?? If you ever eat crab in Cumbria, which you should, then you MUST ask if it is local, and if not, demand why not. Because this is something we are not short of and for which there are two lovely businesses, Muncaster Crab and Esk Valley Seafoods, who'd be happy to sell some in your direction. Crabs are mostly caught in pots which is a super sustainable, low impact fishing method but as we all know, size does matter - make sure your crab is at least 13cm in diameter so that you know it is a grown-up.

James Martin was also present at the show, making women swoon left, right, but not centre. Ok yes, centre too. Well he is quite nice. But no swooning for me, I only wanted him for one thing...

"James, James! Can you just hold my fish?"

(Clicking on this link is compulsory, by the way. http://www.wildlifetrusts.org/petitionfish)

The story of the curious oysters

"The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings". So said the Walrus to the Oysters.

Part two of the London Trilogy is the tale of  my first oyster. These little animals have received a bit of bad press recently... so I thought I'd jump on the band wagon! No just kidding, I am of course in support of eating oysters as a lovely sustainable seafood item. But while Alice in Wonderland's the Walrus and the Carpenter sung to the little oysters to lure them off down the beach in a sort of creepy abduction, I went to Borough Market.

As a former London resident I have often observed the Borough Market oyster stands and their oyster-eating customers (that's the only kind they have). Yet somehow I always felt too shy to ask for an oyster myself because I wouldn't have a clue what to do with it and would be embarrassed in front of all the knowledgeable oyster people. And I could hardly say "thanks" and pop it into my pocket to eat privately later. But during this last visit to London I decided to throw caution to the wind. Well actually I just found a friend to feel foolish with. You see, I liken novice oyster-eating to falling over:

If I fall over and embarrass myself with friends, well actually no one is surprised, and we laugh about it. If however I slip, trip or fall over when alone, I have the choice of either a) pretending I meant to do it and thus staying on the ground for a while, or b) getting up, doing an exaggerated 'silly me' face, probably accompanied by a shaking of the head and rolling of the eyes, in case anyone is looking, and then carrying on down the street trying to hide the fact that I really hurt myself.

So basically I had a friend with me to look like an idiot with, which makes it ok. And to pay for the oysters as it turned out. Winner! I mean thanks. So I went for it...

Formerly unbeknownst to me, there is a significant level of decision-making to be done when buying an oyster. This starts with whether or not to go native. Does it matter? Surely an oyster by any other name would smell as briny? Yet there are two species on sale and you must select one.

So, there's the native (or flat) oyster Ostrea edulis which is kind of round, and then there's the larger and kind of longer-shaped Pacific (or rock) oyster Crassostrea gigas. Natives/flats are well, native and look flat. The Pacific/rock oyster is from the Pacific, and resembles a rock. You really couldn't make this stuff up.

Why two species? Well, native oyster populations were thought to be less productive than desired, being a little 'averse to harsh weather conditions' as Richard Haward's Oysters puts it. The soft beggars. So in the 1960s the hardier Pacific oyster was deliberately introduced to be farmed for commercial purposes. This introduction of a non-native species was promptly followed by escapees merrily establishing populations in the wilds of the British coast (all imagine an oyster legging it over the farm walls to 'run free' and start an enormous family...). It's said that the Pacifics grow faster and spawn more frequently, and so are better suited to farming, and to outcompeting the sensitive natives as it turns out. Wise decision? Barn door, horse, bolted.

So oysters are bivalves, which is solely a revelation about their shell type. But, if you want to talk about the birds and the erm, shellfish, oysters can change sex and fertilise their own eggs. Yeh, take that! So yes, bivalves, meaning that their shell is made of two parts which can open and close. Normally when I say 'bivalves' I do the international sign for bivalves - heels of palms together, open and close hands at the fingers. Haha I know you're doing the international sign for bivalves right now....You'd like to know of some other famous bivalves? Alright let's see what I've got up my sleeve... well apart from muscles *smirk* there's scallops, clams, and mussels too.

Both oyster species are now found both wild and farmed in the UK and bivalve farming is generally great - all we need is a lil bit o substrate (rock, rope, whatever the mollusc likes to attach to), and a good water supply. Therefore this method of seafood production is uber sustainable and uber low impact on the environment. Wicked.

Second call to make: do you go large? Word of warning - the scientific name of the Pacific or rock oyster is directly translatable as "this oyster is giant and thick". Hindsight allows me to share a little wisdom with you - going for a 'large Pacific' on your first ever oyster could be a mistake. The oyster shells are all closed (this means the oysters are good and safe to eat) and obviously (but worth stating), raw. The guys on the stand (the 'shuckers') open the oyster up for you ('shuck' it) and cut them away from the shell to facilitate the tipping of the entire thing into your mouth. This you know is the etiquette in oyster-eating and only a total buffoon would do it any other way. Read on.

Thirdly, lemon juice? Tabasco sauce? Oh man. At this point I'm down the line at the table of condiments, holding my oyster-in-a-half-shell, unable to make any more decisions. MASSIVE oyster and all of its liquor in hand, I can delay no longer. Yet while I'm not known for the smallness of my mouth, I know that there is no way it will hold the entire contents of the shell. Tip it all in at once? (Shuck that!). So I gingerly held down the oyster and poured a good part of the liquor away until I felt that what was left was a manageable portion for a lady. What else have I since read in that pesky oyster-eating etiquette? That the only absolute rule that you must not break is do NOT pour out the oyster's liquor. Ooops.

And with that, in it went. Poor thing. No not the oyster - me! I'm the one standing in Borough Market, mouthful of what felt like curdled seawater. And they are considered an aphrodisiac??
"Well that's an alleged effect of the high levels of zinc contained in them"
"It's Boring Lindsay! Kick her!"
So eating oysters is considered to be a prelude to something else. Well, unless that something else is throwing up, I don't think I felt it.

The end of the tale? There was only one way for that oyster to go... no I didn't spit it out, I chewed like lightening and swallowed it down. And do you know what? I'd do it again! The bit about throwing up was just for comedic effect and while difficult to describe, oysters certainly can't be called bad... let's say complex.

And my friend? Well, apparently he didn't 'reduce the shell contents to a manageable portion for a lady' like I did. "Erm, you have a little something in your beard..."

The Idiot's Guide to what NOT to do with Gurnard (I'm an idiot, here is my guide)

So in my last post I allowed my literary attentions to drift away from coastal fauna and instead penned a little prose about coastal flora (and dog wee). This time I'm not even going to write about Cumbria. Mixing it up, flying by the seat of my pants? Nope, I took a train. Drum roll please, for Part One of the London Trilogy.

It's 6am and I'm outside Billingsgate market, courtesy of a taxi driver who did well not to smash into McDonalds on the approach, as he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other over his nose..."What is this Billingsgate? It is fish, yes?"

Billingsgate market is the largest inland fish market in the UK. It opens for trade at 5am and is the place to be for anyone who wants a box of fish before sunrise. They also run a super duper range of courses at the Billingsgate Training School - brilliant, just try and stop me! So there I was, bleary-eyed and bushy-haired, and apparently with a very tense neck:

After enough tea to fully open my eyes and relax the muscles in my neck, my course mates and I set off on a tour of the market expertly guided by the fantastic Ken, who has been in the business for more years than I should tell you (I don't actually know) and who is an absolute legend. Here he is, demonstrating to the group how selling fish is just like conducting an orchestra:

 

Ken had many invaluable tips about buying fish (body tone, body tone, body tone!) and insightful thoughts on why we shouldn't buy dogfish... "that dogfish there? I wouldn't give that to your cat.... and I bet your cat's horrible".

Bah ha brilliant! Now I may be (definitely am) shamelessly adapting this comment to suit my conservation purposes but I like to think it means that dogfish is not only a lovely shark, friend not food, but that it tastes like poop too and therefore the best all-round advice is don't bother eating it.

Me: "Oh, so what you're actually saying is, dogfish tastes like dog poop? Interesting..."
Ken: "that is not what I said. Why I oughta...!" *shakes fist angrily*
Me: *Running away shouting* "dogfish is dog poop!"
Ken:

As part of the tour we bought fish to practice on in the kitchen workshop area later, so I got a couple of gurnard (No, I'm not obsessed) then went around with everyone else trying really hard not to be a know-it-all when we were asked 'who knows what fish this is?' at every box.

Well I failed at that, but I got all the fish right! *smug face*.

Now I can't possibly go any further without advising all you female readers that if you're feeling a bit low in the self esteem department, to take a trip to Billingsgate market - it's a man's world and apparently the men there only communicate with women via the universal language of wolf-whistling. I nearly fell over when, while practically sleeping on my feet and looking like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall before his haircut (but after a shave), I got my first wolf-whistle of the day. They then came thick and fast, along with the offers to help me cook my fish:

Man: Nice gurnard.

Me: Thanks.

Man: What are you going to do with that?

Me: Cook it.

Man: You need some help with that?

Me: Bye.

After the full tour of the market, including the cold storage area which was really cold, we went up to the kitchen workshop to learn what to do with our fish. Ken showed us a great way to gut and skin a gurnard in one deft manoeuvre which I have since *deep breath* videoed myself doing and attached below *cringes but ploughs on valiantly for the cause*. But before you watch the video, please be aware that I don't know why I say directly to the camera "this is a red gurnard, because it is red" in a weird voice. I also have no idea if the sound or even the video itself will work. What's more (embarrassing), look out for me purposely and repeatedly pricking my thumb on the spines to demonstrate where they are. Want to know something that I didn't? Gurnard is a member of the scorpionfish family. Scorpionfish in general have a protein-based venom in their dorsal spines and while I can't actually find any information anywhere to back up the fact that gurnard spines are venomous, my thumb doesn't usually swell up and increase in temperature on a Friday night. Ah well, you live, stick yourself with gurnard spines, and learn. To be fair it was no big drama, didn't actually hurt, and would be rather easy to avoid so don't be discouraged from having a go.

Final thoughts on gurnard before incredibly-embarrassing-video-time? Well, they have large heads, which I can sympathise with, and they can grunt and growl, which is what I was doing as I was trying to pull my gurnard's large head off. They also make a little girly farty sound as you pull their heads back and their guts come out.
"Urgh pardon you".
"It was the gurnard!"
"Lindsay, you can't blame the gurnard every time."

Now watch the video and never, ever tell me what you think of it.

"Mmmm cyanide, yummy!" says Lindsay the Kid

Ah Friday night. A roaring fire, a big glass of lime and soda (if a large splash of vodka fell in there it was merely a slip of the hand as I was studying the label to see if the contents go well with seafood...), a little bowl of peanuts... and a blog to write. I really should get a life, or at least pretend to have one by posting this tomorrow morning to pull the wool over your eyes, but I fear that my opening line has given me away.

Yet again there has been a bit of a gap since my last post. Well you see I got told by a lovely reader that I was very talented, and then my head grew to the size of a leatherback turtle - largest of the sea turtles, can be sighted off the UK coast (the turtle, not my head) - and I was subsequently rendered unable to type as I needed both hands to hold up my massive nut.

So far in this post there has been no mention of the F-word! ('Fish', obviously. Come on!). In fact you'll have to wait until the very end to hear a mention of any of our gill-bearing friends in this bad-boy rebel of a post, because tonight I will mostly be carping on (hehe) about plants!

This stems (hehe hehe) from a day late in August when I joined a Coastal Wild Food Course run by Sonny Khan, a master of foraging and a heavyweight in the 'sustainable living' ring. Together with the other delegates, I spent a day rambling happily around the lovely Arnside coast, stopping here and there to eat it. Hmmm, I sound like a goat.

Honestly I have never eaten so much verge and salt marsh in my life. And probably dog-wee too, but I'm not dwelling on that. Who knew that so much of the green stuff growing around our coast was edible? Not me, I thought it was mostly grass! But then I am an embarrassment to The Wildlife Trusts with my poor botanical knowledge. So what have we got and do you have to look hard for it? Well, no. I took one step off the promenade at Arnside and stood on our appetiser.

From the crunchy, refreshing sea radish and the spinach-like orache, to the 'I've got a trendy reputation' marsh samphire and its mimic, the annual sea blite, there were literally edibles everywhere. The majority I believe would be best used as a salad leaf or gently wilted as you would with spinach. There are many different types out there, which is good because I don't think we have many in any real abundance on the Cumbrian coast, so it's diversity all the way. And on that note there are some best-practice guidelines you should follow when foraging to ensure the sustainability (we love that word) of the plants - best to read up about this before heading out, or even better sign up for one of Sonny's courses. It is really worth learning a thing or two about these plants because they are there, they are edible and they are far more interesting than a pre-packed salad bag, plus you get to be humongously more self-satisfied when eating a meal that you literally gathered part of. I never get to feel that smug in a supermarket!

So we spent a highly enjoyable day meandering around the coastline, stopping for a nibble of sea plantain there, an amuse bouche of sea beet (pictured above) there. My favourite piece of Arnside wildlife was sea arrow grass which tastes brilliantly like coriander but contains a smidge of cyanide and so I feel compelled to tell you not to consume it in large quantities.

In my unrelenting ignorance I expected the focus of the course to be on seaweeds, and while we do have some of those as well (gutweed, egg wrack, channel wrack...), the coastal plants were far more diverse and also much easier to prepare for eating (do a once-over for caterpillars and you're good to go). We had a quick look at the sea weeds and periwinkles in the rock pools, then going back to my fish-lady roots, I found myself knee deep in the sea, shuffling alongside a man in white underpants, performing the act of 'fluking'. It was definitely a day of firsts. Fluking is a method of catching flounder (or flukes/flooks) where you walk through the water until you stand on one, at which point you master all instinctive reactions to yelp, and instead keep the fish trapped under your foot until you can reach down and grab it. Well it was great fun but the flounder either saw me or the white pants coming and all survived to dodge feet another day.

So thanks ever so much to Sonny, it was a super course from which I went home full of knowledge and erm, roughage.

"Oh my God, it's better than cod!"

I'm back! And if I'm being Frank, I mean frank, my extended absence has been mainly due to my great age. I listen to Radio 4, go for walks, read my book in front of the fire and can't blog unless it is in my accustomed place, which is in my living room. This means that it is literally not possible for me to blog if my home internet is not working, which it wasn't up until Monday when the nice young man came round and reconnected me to the world, at which point a feeling came over me and drove me to blog (almost) immediately. Probably guilt.

So there is only one thing on the lips of Cockermouthians this week - can you guess what it is? Nope not that. It's the extravaganza that was the Taste Cumbria food festival this past weekend, which was a huge deal for the county, although someone should have told the South Lakes - there were nowt but laal West Cumbrians theyer, aye, not even yan from Westmorland! Aye. Yan tan tether, yam and watter. Well they would never understand the language anyway.

My Taste Cumbria weekend began on Friday night when I singlehandedly manoevered not one, but two marquees into the Badgermobile and took myself up to my home town of Cockermouth to stay with my obliging parents. At 7am on Saturday morning I was on my way into town, and at 7.05am I was stuck in the mud on Memorial Gardens (only halfway through the entrance gates). My goodness. One push from old man and 3 hours later I was the proud owner of a huge and slightly mismatched stand. Here it is with Nikki and our chef for the weekend, the legend that is Justin Woods from the Castle Green Hotel in Kendal. And nope your eyes do not deceive you, the marquees are actually pitched in the United States of Mud.

So here's how Day One went:
07:00 - 07:05 leaving house and getting stuck in mud, yes we already know.
10:00 chef Justin arrives and starts doing his thang (cooking)
10:30 members of the public begin wandering past so we get our first lot of free tasters out on the table. Looking forward to the day ahead. The full day of giving out free tasters of expertly cooked gurnard, coley and mackerel. Yep, all day long...
11:00 we run out of food.
Alright maybe we lasted a couple of hours longer than that, only because thankfully Justin ignored me when I suggested that 50 tasters of each dish might be enough. Ahaha well people do say I am funny.

Clearly the menu of a fragrant Thai green curry with gurnard, a delicate pickled mackerel with fancy mushrooms and a good British beer battered coley with chips was always going to go down well in Cockermouth. All three dishes were truly incredible and I could have eaten that Thai curry all day. If we hadn't ran out. Chicken and egg...

People kept on coming and by the end of the day we had done somewhere in the region of 500 little mini plates of delicifishyousness, and when I say 'we' I mean I asked Justin to be there, and thus take some of the credit. Day two was very much the same and I have to say that Justin made the production of an astounding 1,000 Borrower-sized portions of sustainable seafood over one foodie weekend look like a fun-filled walk in the park. But that may have been the mud.

It was rather interesting how few people had even heard of gurnard. (Well it's interesting to me!). No wonder we only eat cod and haddock. If I put 'gungemeister' on the fish counter you wouldn't buy it would you? Of course not you've no clue what it is! So why would anyone buy gurnard if they've no idea what it is or how it tastes? Gurnard is brilliant, so here goes, your gurnard lesson! You knew it was coming, don't act surprised.

There are three types of gurnard - red, grey and yellow (or tub). Don't ask me where the 'tub' comes from. All three are edible but I gather that red and tub make for slightly better eating. To me that just smokes of a challenge, so I wouldn't worry which one you get. All three are fast growing fish which mature early, so make for good 'takers' of fishing pressure and in fact, studies have shown that they will be able to withstand the increased pressure that the diversification of British tastes in fish might incur. So the best thing about gurnard? It has special laal fins which are like spiky legs that they can 'walk' around on and with which they can stir up food from the seabed. Brilliant! I'm going to 'stir up' my lunch with my legs tomorrow and see what everyone thinks.

Many Cockermouthians also raised the question of where might they actually buy lesser-known fish like gurnard, and of course in Cockermouth there is only Sainsburys, although I did hand out millions of Donnan's discount cards over the weekend so they might have a rush on. Also if you are near Penrith, ask The Fish Cellar for some gurnard because Mark was telling me just how much he likes filleting them...(*smirk*).

Woman walks into Donnans: "Hello"
Richard Donnan sounding very tired: "Hello"
Woman: "I'll have one bit of coley, one bit of mackerel and one bit of gurnard please. I'm going to make beer-battered coley, pickled mackerel and Thai green gurnard curry. I want to be just like Lindsay, apart from the hair."
Richard Donnan: "But I haven't slept since Taste Cumbria!"


Quick step back onto the subject of Sainsburys I would like to say (and I'm not crawling) that more than one member of the Cockermouth public mentioned the Sainsburys 'swap a fish' initiative and said that it had made them try new fish. So credit where credit's due for that (and a little to my Nectar card, that's right just there... magic).
Kidding! 

Coley proved to be better known than gurnard but still there were many who hadn't eaten it before, and of course there were those who consider coley to be a second-rate cod; I like to call those people the Cod Squad. After Justin's little sample they are official converts to benefits of the Holy Coley.

Generally I felt as if the weekend on the stand was really successful and the response was so lovely and positive. When one lady walked away and was overheard saying "I really want to try to eat sustainable fish", I think I may have misted over a little. In fact she should consider herself lucky she didn't get wrestled to the ground in a gigantic hairy bear hug.

So it was great and as promised, I have put the two recipes for which we ran out of hard copies over the weekend onto blog pages (scroll up and peruse to your right). I also had wicked fun catching the eye of people I went to school with, babysat for, lived nearby when I was growing up... and watching them try to plaice me (*snort*). However when I put on that black polo shirt it's just like when Clark Kent takes off his glasses - noone can tell my true identity! Apart from the ones that did. Maybe I need a phone box.

Anyway, go Cockermouth, you rock! My favourite quote?
"Look she's even got Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's hairdo!"
Thanks Ryan Blackburn - genuinely for your Fish and Shellfish masterclass, which was brilliant, and sarcastically for the loud and publicly-staged Hugh hairdo comment!

Gordon 'Kymer Monkfish' Ramsey plus Monty 'ex-Marine' Halls? Well, if you insist.

Well I feel all backed up. Several things have been going on that I would like to blog about and they're weighing me down! I could do with getting at least one out tonight, just to lighten the load...

This first one highlights two very important issues - the difficulty of choosing fish and the smallness of my brain.

So I've been out mystery-shopping for fish a little bit recently, just dabbling, dipping my toe in. It has been really interesting but I'm going to have to be quite careful as I reveal the findings, because although it is hardly 'revealing' unless I tell you where I was shopping, I'm trumpeting around in a mine-field here and if I'm not careful I'll trump in the wrong ear and everyone will be upset. And a mine will go off.

This story, as you will see, fails to be any real form of mystery-shopping and is just about me being incompetent, so there is actually no need to conceal the name of this particular store. But hell I'm in character now. I'm the Fish Lady (I have actually been called that) and to make sure there's absolutely no way you'll be able to work out the supermarket in question in a million billion years, lets call it Cubicles.

Now Cubicles is a small supermarket chain well-known to us northerners and, on its website, Cubicles claims to have a preference for fish landed locally. I'm not sure what Cubicles likes best about local seafood, but I don't think that it can be stocking and selling it in its stores, otherwise you'd think it would...


Cubicles does use a local supplier however, and thus causes pain in my brain when I try to equate this support of a local business with the lack of actual local fish. Anyway this is not the crux of the story (really, it's not. I know, it was a long introduction). I like Cubicles and I will look into that little hiccup a little more and report back at a later time.


I did intend to 'mystery-shop' Cubicles, but when I got there the guy who ran over to help me (I mean he literally sprinted) was not the fish guy, the fish guy had gone home (he probably sprinted as well - out the door when he saw the Fish Lady coming...). So this shining example of customer service did his absolute best to help me, but it was really very unfair as the fish counter was clearly not his forte (when I asked to see the gills of one particular fish, he presented me with the flap of the belly where the guts had been pulled out. This made me want to give him a hug). So then I didn't know what to do. I had planned to try some new fish, as is my wont to tell everyone else to do, and had imagined making myself a risotto or a paella because I still need to try clams, winkles and cockles, and thought I should have a go at cooking with mussels and squid too. But Cubicles didn't have any of the above. This is not a criticism at all but it did leave me floundering...( mwah ahahahah). What to get what to get what to get????

And this is when the panic set in. Fish counter insanity. I broke out in a metaphorical sweat and all the information on all the fish labels swam before my eyes. All the different methods, different sources, different species. I considered getting a whole fish, practicing my filleting skills and making a fish stock with the bits (panic subsides a little). Oh mother of pearl I don't have a filleting knife! (Panic returns ten fold!). There's no perfect fish, there's no perfect fish. So which one do I buy? Will another fish type go into a risotto? Or should I make something else? But what? And what ingredients do I have in? Hang on I'm in a supermarket (called Cubicles), I can buy ingredients and make anything, ANYTHING! OH MY GOODNESS WHAT SHALL I HAVE FOR MY TEA???

So, in a moment of madness (oh I wish I could say 'clarity', but no...) I bought monkfish. MONKFISH! Of all the fish in all the world... In my defense, it was on offer and thus the only time I could ever buy it without losing my hair over the cost. But a wise man once told me that 'they' only put things on offer when they want to get rid of them. So I have just bought the monkfish that Cubicles wanted to get rid of and for which I have no recipe. But hey at least I can make a comparison of this supermarket monkfish with fishmonger monkfish. NO I CAN'T, I'VE NEVER HAD IT!


What an idiot. Who on earth has a panic attack and ends up with a packet of monkfish and three bottles of wine?? Alright, the wine was in the basket before the panic. But really, what kind of useless example am I?? Blind fish counter panic. Too much to choose from, don't know what I'm cooking, managing to remember all the rules but forgetting in what order of preference to rate them... I'm probably the average 'trying to be concientious' fish shopper, that's who. So if you've ever felt bewildered by the fish counter, which is made infinitely more complex when you're trying to do the right thing by the ocean, then don't worry, apparently it happens to the best of us, and also to me!

Well, at least it's different - I've never bought monkfish before - so am practising what I preach. I also will probably never buy it again unless I marry a rich man, and the chances of me marrying anyone while people openly call me the Fish Lady are probably slim. I'd settle for a tall, handsome marine biologist slash TV presenter.... (that's you, Monty Halls, in case I wasn't clear).

I then went to another supermarket, lets call it Harrisons, watched a demonstration of the World's Sharpest Knife, bought it (who does that??), gave my number to the demonstrator (who does that?? Alright judge and jury, he was a chef and obviously good at demonstrating, demonstrated by the box of knives in my hands), then went home and made Gordon Ramsey's Kymer Monkfish and Vegetable Curry, which might have been the best thing I have ever tasted, and treated my post-traumatic stress with a little (lot) of wine!

And the moral of the tale - be prepared. If you're not comfortable winging it, then have an idea of what dish you're going to make, and a back-up in case of emergencies. Take precautions against fish counter insanity.

Disclaimer: I don't know what a metaphorical sweat is. If anyone out there sweats metaphorically, I'm sorry to hear it.

'Sustainable' sounds more interesting if you say it with a French accent.

So on Friday I was asked a million dollar question by a not-inconsequential person in the UK fishing and seafood industry. Sweat dripped onto my keyboard as a I typed furiously (as in frenziedly, not angrily) to produce an extensive email essay in response to Dr Harman's little question: what do I regard as sustainable?

Call me crazy, but I'd say that Dr Jon Harman, the Business Development Director at Seafish (the authority on seafood in the UK), was not asking the Wild Oceans Project Officer (the authority on babbled radio interviews and laminating pictures of fish) about sustainable fish because he doesn't know and was hoping I could clear it up a bit for him. Nope, nosiree, I'm being tested. I'm also being made to look directly at the elephant in the room which I was enjoying ignoring. In fact, Dr Harman is sitting astride the elephant, waving and flapping its ears up and down, shouting 'look at me on this elephant in this room'. With 25 years of experience on the subject, I'm also pretty sure that Dr Harman has a built-in waffle-ometer which will deftly block my usual escape route. So here I am, manning up to deal with this 'sustainable' elephant head on, and I expect to be a greyer shade of brunette when I come out the other end. (I might also be alone, because unfortunately, unless you are a fish nerd like me, 'sustainable' is actually one of those 'go to sleep immediately' words. Sustaina... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz).


I know that I use 'sustainable-seafood' to describe the project all the time, but sometimes we say things we don't precisely mean and it's ok because it is close enough to the truth and is much simpler than using the full complex description which would bore people to death everytime you talk about fish, and then I'd be wanted for homicide.

Average Joe: 'Hi Lindsay, really quick question - is this fish sustainable?'
Me: 'Hi Joe, great question. I could just answer yes or no, but I fear that to be accurate I must tell you that the literal sustainability of any individual fish is not enough to say whether or not it is ethical to ....Joe, are you ok? Joe?!'
Average Joe: 'zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....*silence*' 
Joe's friend, Ordinary Eric: 'You bored Joe to death! Boring Lindsay you're the worst.'


Right, just like pulling off a plaster, here we go, Boring Lindsay's definition of sustainable:
A fishery is sustainable if the biomass of the stock lost to fishing plus natural mortality is not greater than the biomass recruited to the stock through reproduction and growth.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

So don't take too much of the target fish and you can keep fishing indefinitely, right? Sustainability in a nutshell and I'm sure the Oxford Dictionary people would be happy with that.
Knock knock.
'Who's there?'
'A conservationist'
'A conservationist who?'
'A conservationist who says that we should consider more than only the target species before saying a fish is ok to eat'.
'It's Boring Lindsay, don't let her in!'

So there's also non-target fish, caught unintentionally when fishing for the target species. You're sustainably fishing for John and you accidentally catch Dave. These are, thanks to Hughie FW, well-known firstly as by-catch, secondly as discards if and when they are well, discarded. By definition alone, a fishery wouldn't have to give a rat's bottom about these 'by-catch' Daves, it could still be 'sustainably' fishing the target Johns. A bit wrong, eh.

Ha I'm not quite done. Then what about damage to the marine habitat? I won't go into this now, but surely we should consider whether or not a fishing method is mean to the sea floor before we make it our friend? Not really, according solely to the literal definition of sustainability.

Ultimately here is my confession: I call Wild Oceans 'a sustainable seafood project' but rather than saying:
'go and eat fish that are reproducing at a greater rate than they are being caught' (for which I would probably get punched for being an idiot, and deserve it)
I say:
'go and eat locally-sourced fish, line-caught fish and a wide variety of fish'
because it is easy to go out there and actually do, plus it considers a few of the wider impacts that 'sustainability' alone doesn't, including the Cumbrian fishing economy. (For this I expect to be hugged for being practical. Still waiting though...)
 
So Wild Oceans is not exactly a sustainable-seafood project, but its close enough....
Hel-loooo? Anyone still out there?
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
*Embarrassed cough. Lindsay goes home by herself*

Boring Lindsay would like to apologise to any Joes, Daves, Johns, Erics and elephants who may have been offended in the making of this post.

What do you call a mussel with no eyes?

A mussel. I don't think they have eyes.

Ok I'm starting with a (homemade) joke to put you in a good humour and make up for the fact that I am massive slacker who hasn't blogged for a lifetime. A post is way overdue and I came home specifically to write, and yet I have still spent the last hour reading Game of Thrones instead. But it's really good! Reading inside, alone, on a sunny Friday afternoon? Massive slacker? Massive loser more like.

I don't expect that you need to ask what I'll be writing about today, having read all about it in the press. Oh those paparazzi scoundrels, hounding me day and night... No? You haven't heard? Ah maybe you don't get the Westmorland Gazette...and then read it all the way to the very, very end...

Well anyway, last week Nikki and I spent a day on work experience with Nik and Peter at Kendal Fish and Seafoods and I have to say that I think the biggest revelation of the altogether very revealing day was not that I am crap at filleting, or that pin-boning is like plucking eyebrows, it was that people who go into fishmongers buy fish. I mean, they actually buy fish! Or fishes even! No joke.

Ok let me expand *Lindsay gets a bit bigger*. Thanks. Now let me elaborate.
I pretty much assumed that there would be a line of people queuing up for the cod and haddock on offer, each one pulling a gargoylesque face at the gurnard, the brill, and the rest of the counter full of more interesting-tasting fish than cod. But I was a mile off the mark. The lovely fishmonger customers were giving cod the cold-shoulder and buying the more interesting-tasting fish! I wanted to run and hug each one of them, but that would have been weird.
Speaking of weird, check out these pics! (No offence, Nik!)

Interesting results though eh! But obvious now I come to think of it and oops, lookout here comes my latest theory...
If you have a bit of an appreciation of nice fish then there are two things you probably won't do very often, and they go hand in hand: you won't buy fish from a supermarket, and you won't buy cod (it's a bit of an unexciting fish which has done little to warrant its price except become overfished - that old chestnut!).
Whereas if you have no knowledge of nice fish, then you might do exactly those two things, simply out of a lack of confidence with / awareness of the alternatives available.

So I don't need to persuade fishmonger-goers to buy a variety of fish. Grannies sucking eggs and all that. What I need to do is persuade 'The Others' to go to the fishmongers, period. (Full stop). Just get them through the door and then worry about it...

And it would seem that there is a certain type of person that does not frequent fishmonger counters - the type of person who is under 60 years of age. Yep you know the ones, those people without grey hair... the problem as it might seem, is that glancing at a cross-section of the Kendal fishmonger customers would lead you to the conclusion that Kendal is actually a large retirement home.
(Oh I am being a little generalistic, but generally speaking, the general case was that the general customer was generally in their 60s - 80s. And of course we want to do a similar survey on a Saturday).

But how on earth to get the next generations interested in buying better fish? If you were sitting next to me I swear you would be able to hear my brain frantically trying to find an answer to this question, preferable one that is achievable in the next 13 months...  Tick tock whirrrrrr "Excuse me, was that your brain making that noise?" 

I'll let you know what I come up with!

Earlier I sent a text message which included the phrase 'I'm just trying to squeeze a blog out'.
What's happening to me?!

Fish fingers?? Let me mullet over...

Things that happened today:

Number one
I admired the quality of a public toilet and then took a photo of it. Honestly it was brilliant: a good flush, hand soap containers filled right up, hand dryers that make the water on your hands rue the day it came out of that tap... Yes, Copeland Borough Council should be proud of the public loos at St Bees.
Should I explain this or leave you thinking I love toilets?

Number two
I declined the kind offer by Richard Donnan Sr at Donnan's Quayside Fisheries to put my finger inside the mouth of a grey mullet. A live one."Its ok, they don't have teeth" says an onlooker, putting his finger into the mouth of a second mullet. The two men stand expectantly with their fingers in mullets' mouths, the third mullet looks hopeful, I can feel the pressure building...

No I didn't do it. While Richard had been busy filleting fish prior to the mouth probing, which the mullet was clearly enjoying the flavour of, I had been petting a dog on St Bees beach.

Grey mullet are described by one internet-based encyclopedia (so that would be Wikipedia then) as being thick-bodied with blunt heads. Harsh but true. They are,*ahem* grey in colour, have great big scales and, as I learned today, no teeth. Utterly unappealing. Grey mullet you're the worst!
But now a new fish is appearing on our menus! Grey mullet, get your big thick bodies out of the way, silver mullet is coming through....hang on, you can't kid a kidder - that's grey mullet back again, I'd recognise that blunt head anywhere!
So apparently grey mullet is the next example in a line of fish (and celebrities) who have changed their names in an effort to make them more appealing. Somebody somewhere reckons that silver mullet sounds tastier than grey mullet. Another example - Chilean seabass, mmm I just love it... suckers! Its Patagonian toothfish! Rock salmon? That would be spiny dogfish - an overfished shark. Apparently back in 2009, Sainsbury's tried to rename pollack as 'colin' because people were embarrassed to ask for pollack. Well, fair play to Sainsbury's for trying (and it is definitely NOT embarrassing to go to the fish counter and ask for a piece of Colin...).

What's my point? Ah I'm not sure. Well I am really. My point is that grey mullet is AWESOME, you (and it) should not pay a bit of attention to its negative press; beauty is only skin deep and it's what's on the inside that counts. And I hear that this is one tasty little blunt-headed fish, so give it a try! It can't help its name, or its toothless gummy mouth... (what have grey mullet and the Beckhams' new baby got in common...).

So tuna may be big, red and meaty, grrrr, and swordfish may be beautiful and pure white, ahhh, but who cares. Grey mullet is a good (and cheap) British fish and I will show him my appreciation by eating him sometime soon.

Number three
I had this said to me:  "Great hair. Ha ha". ????

I might move to Barrow

Before I talk about Martin Platt (glance to your right to admire the cheesemaker himself), I must talk about Barrow carnival, to which the travelling act that I have become journeyed yesterday. Well it was great of course! I mean, my hair is now grey and I am using voice-recognition technology to type due to the shakes, but really it was really fab...

In all seriousness I had a brilliant time; it's been years since I went to a carnival and some of the costumes were truly awesome, so fantastic job done by all the participants. With not one but TWO Grease floats, plus an elephant, several Elvises (Elvi?) and a stripping Lady Gaga tribute, what more could you want? Me dressed as a fish waving from the roof of the CWT badger-mobile? That's next year my friend...

So onto fish - well the people of Barrow appear to be dichotomised into those who have fishers in the family, eat a wide range of fish species (I met an actual pollock-lover!), know a lot about local fish and who wouldn't touch pre-frozen fish with a barge-pole, and the remainder, with whom conversations went a bit like this:

Me: 'Do you like fish?'
Person: 'Er gross no I hate fish!'
Me: 'What about fish fingers?'
Person: 'Yeh I like them'

This group were often of the child or adolescent variety to be fair, and I can totally understand their dubious expressions when I pull out a piece of fresh coley (I must look very weird at this point - 'ta da! *stands holding fillet of fish, massive smile, even massiver hair...*) and tell them it would make brilliant fish fingers... but the truth is that I am (of course) right, and the wonderfully honest people that I spoke to probably represent a large proportion of Britain today, whereby we are grossed out by fresh fish but are happy to eat the fish mulch covered in breadcrumbs that some once (long ago) fresh fish has been turned into. I'm not saying I don't love a fish finger sandwich, thou shalt not lie after all, but to rate them over fresh (maybe line-caught, maybe local) fish is to put a Big Mac leering down over an organic British fillet steak.

I've had enough of this, I'm off into schools next year I tell ya. I'll be the Jamie Oliver equivalent of fish, just try and stop me! (someone please, try and stop me).


The comedy moment yesterday (in the 'not at all funny at the time' sense) was when, after an hour of meticulous set up of the stand, fanning out all the literature in beautiful arrangements and wrestling the display boards into place (only those with experience of marler-hayley boards will truly appreciate this battle), we were advised to relocate our entire stand from the courtyard at the back of the town hall to the street at the front. What? Leave the desolate courtyard, in which our marquee was perched all by itself looking weird and random, and move to the bustling street just in front? *accepting sigh*.
Once the majority at the stand had been dismantled and was waiting in the new spot (just about visible through the smoke of the Thai food stand's bbq), it was time to move the marquee itself. Fully erect and free of it's weights, the marquee became a bit like a giant sail in the freakishly strong winds in Barrow yesterday. So, with a man in a yellow jacket at each of its corners, the marquee paraded its way down the road from the old, lonely location to the new, smokey location, down part of the actual parade route, while my co-hosts Nikki and Gemma ran around after the escaping coloured plastic balls behind it. We were like a warm-up act for the carnival parade itself. To me! To you! To me! PIVOT!

Now onto Martin Platt, or as his friends (and people who realise that Coronation Street is not real life) call him, Sean Wilson. Well, is it wrong that I might have a bit of a celebrity crush?? I mean we chatted, I played it cool....
Sean: "What've you got there -  bacon sandwich?"
Me: "Yes" *takes bite of bacon sandwich*
Three days at Whitehaven and I never did get to try his cheese. I wonder if he's doing Egremont Crab Fair? I'll have to wear my best 'Wild Oceans' logo-ed polo shirt...

The day I got a wind-burnt face on the Cumbrian Riviera

Right so the Whitehaven Festival is madness. And not only because Madness are on. It's also because Louis Walsh is wandering around (is he lost?) and because Martin Platt is nearby again (I can't seem to shake this guy) but he's very nice so I won't say he's got a Gordon Ramsey hair do again. I will try some of his cheese though (that's no weird euphemism, I mean his actual cheese). And this afternoon Jean-Christophe Novelli, casual as you like (and made-up to the nines), joined the crowd watching our wonderful chef Ryan Blackburn demonstrating mackerel versatility on the big ole cookery stage. Ryan: "I wish I'd gone home now", JC: "hawheeehawheehaw" (joke). Ryan actually went on to mightily impress said top celebrity chef who was very kind and supportive (and is releasing a book all about local food in Cumbria and includes seafood I believe, so check it out), but I do wish Ryan had started putting on his French accent like he joked he would, that would have made my year.
Ryan was totally brilliant, a fantastic demo chef and the only time we had a rush on at the CWT stand during the whole day was when he said that you could get a copy of his recipe from us. Red squirrels heave-ho, today was all about the mackerel rillettes.

There was also a farting nun, Boy George and a LOT of men in uniform.

Get yourself down to Whitehaven Festival this weekend; who knows what Saturday and Sunday will bring!

Embarrassment and exuberance

There have been no big events since I last posted, unless you count me falling into a hedge as I walked home (sober) from work on Wednesday. Definitely an event for the people watching from the three nearby cars.

However this week I did manage to accost Bob and Helen who make up two thirds of the team of scientific officers for the North West IFCA (that's the Inshore Fisheries and Conservation Authority); the IFCAs are a fairly new-fangled thing and are a sort of evolution of the old sea fisheries committees. At the time of our encounter Bob and Helen were trying to go home but luckily their levels of patience matched my level of exuberance (apparently if you block someone's exit from the Cumbria Wildlife Trust offices but do it exuberantly, it's ok), and they were brilliantly helpful and knowledgeable.

As I talked about the Wild Oceans project and the dream to link our local inshore fishermen directly with local restaurants, hotels and other businesses I was pleased to have them think it was a good idea. Part of me worries that in my headlong rush to "improve the lives of fishermen and the stocks of fish all at the same time", pausing only to polish my halo, I must remember to consider whether or not the fishermen might actually be happy as they are, have the business links they want already set up and neither want nor need my blundering help. However Bob and Helen were supportive and, as they know a lot more about fishing in the north west than me, made me happy and upped my exuberance levels even more (they regret that now). Helen actually made a brilliant suggestion - don't do it one by one, do a 'do' - get them all in a room together to meet and greet and form links where they are desired.
Good idea or what. I mean, I might have the best intentions but having never actually been fishing, probably shouldn't try to set myself up as some kind of agent for fishermen. For one, I don't really know any and for another, I might start wearing pinstripe suits and smoking cigars.

But my friends, I am out and about and talking to lots of different people from lots of different angles of this seafood lark. For example, I had a nice chat with Mark Salmon (no joke) from the Port of Lancaster Smokehouse from their stand at Country Fest. One of their products is greenlip mussels from New Zealand; mussels are available on the north west coast, are currently under-exploited and best of all could be managed oh so sustainably. Mark said that they would be interested in sourcing more locally if it was possible... well Mark old boy, I think it just might be!

I want to put a local mussel fisherman (picker? I see mussels as a bit like meaty plants) in a room with the Port of Lancaster Smokehouse boss and watch the magic happen (in my head, the fisherman and smokerman are now holding hands, laughing with the joy of finding each other after all this time, and cuddling to the tune of "Could it be Magic"...)

Well watch this space! If it would be helpful and not merely annoying and patronising of me to organise a big meet and greet to increase local purchase of local seafood, then I will. If someone out there would like to comment on the ratio of helpfulness to patronisingness of this idea then please do. I won't expect a huge response to this call-out though, as the majority of my 48 followers are my lovely and loyal friends and family. (Hi Mum).

OK I'm off (leaving, not rotting). I have a piece of line-caught coley and a recipe for gin & tonic batter. I don't expect all of the gin & tonic is required in the batter...?

You don't need to shout if you're talking into a microphone

What a brilliant week! So Petition Fish and I were at Holker Garden Festival on Friday which was hot, I mean great. For those not in the know, Petition Fish is the Wildlife Trust's Living Seas campaign for marine protected areas around the UK. We are asking people nationwide to show their support by signing the gorgeous shimmering scales and sticking them onto our big blue fish. I have managed to work out how to add a slideshow (eyes right) and if you watch it, after an undefined period of time a picture of Petition Fish will come along.

The campaign is going brilliantly so far and I am already onto my second fish, however at Holker I did find it a little challenging to engage interest and, save telling the back of someones head all about the campaign, there was not much I could do to reel them in (hehe I thank you). I think it might have been the Armageddon-esque heat discouraging people from stopping to chat (oh sorry did I drip a bit of sweat on you while signing your petition?). Still, it was an awesome day to be out and about and getting the signature of Lord Cavendish himself made me slightly weak at the knees. Plus I had an infinitely better day than the falcon display man whose falcon, upon release ready for its big performance, went and hid in a tree.

On Saturday I was in Whitehaven for the Summer fete at St Nicholas church, a special event to bring the community together a year after the shooting tragedy. Organiser Gerard Richardson kindly engaged a little chef to do some demonstration of cooking with mackerel, sea bass and Dover sole - all donated by Donnan's Quayside Fisheries and I believe that the bass and sole were locally caught and landed in Whitehaven.

Mackerel we have talked about before - a win:win fish. M to the A to the C to the K...
Bass is a bit trickier; most of the sea bass you'll find offered up to us is farmed, probably in Greece. Wild-caught bass is around but appears less commonly and will probably be more expensive (but I would think that you get what you pay for). Capture methods can include pair trawling which is not brilliant in terms of bycatch (unintended catch such as dolphins) but locally to Cumbria it is more likely to be caught by a fixed net which is much better. So local, wild caught could be your best bet for bass unless you can find line-caught.
The story I've heard for Dover sole locally is that since the Belgian beam trawlers have ceased activities offshore there are rapidly increasing numbers of sole inshore. In general it is a good flatfish choice and most especially if it is not beam-trawled (most likely it will be otter-trawled if caught by a local inshore boat, which is slightly better).
I will get around to putting up some explanations of the fishing methods soon I promise.

If you haven't thought about using fish in Indian cooking before then think again my hungry friends because the chef did a great job of showing how well the fish takes on the Indian flavours. He also bravely took on the task of scaling the bass on stage - too easy when you've got a tap to hold the fish under, a perfect storm of flying scales otherwise and very unfortunate for anyone standing nearby (*typing with one hand while the other picks scales out of hair*). During the demonstration I attempted to address the audience to explain why we were cooking with those fish, which definitely would have been better if I had remembered what those fish were. I also deafened two old ladies by talking as if I didn't have a microphone, into a microphone. But the cooked fish was enjoyed by all and I extend my thanks to the wonderful chef for his work (and for cracking me up by speaking 'privately' to me through the microphone).

Thanks also to Jon for his help on the stand (but not for eating my cupcake), and finally thanks to the seagull who released a world of misery on top of the Cumbria Wildlife Trust marquee. I fear it is not worth cleaning it before the 3 day, harbour-based, seagull party that will be the Whitehaven International Festival; luckily for me, Petition Fish doubles up as an ideal personal shield!

I've got one hand in my pocket

And the other one is holding a plate of smoked mackerel with gougons of flounder. Mmm thanks ever so much to Jaid Smallman from the Wordsworth Hotel in Grasmere, my chef and saviour for the weekend at Country Fest - I'm not kidding about saviour, this guy fed the five thousand with just a few fish and didn't even need the loaves to eke it out.

So last week we had chef Nick Martin making fantastic pan-fried coley at Cumbria Wildlife Trust's Garden Bonanza. Not intimidated by the rain and 50 mph gusts, we had a great day and Nick's delicious coley went down an absolute storm (hehe). Despite being snubbed for years and fed only to cats as a punishment, coley is very cod-like, but cheaper and with healthier stocks. It is also called saithe and coalfish and while it is sometimes landed locally you're more likely to see it from the North Sea or northeast Arctic. Never mind, but look for line-caught if you can get it.

In preparation for Country Fest, Jaid had me reaching for the gin (alright so I was already slicing the lime) when he sent over a recipe which included preserved lemons - "dead simple to make at home" he says, "really?" I say, "yes" he says, "only takes three weeks" - and another which required cooking potatoes 'sous vide'. Big curly head in hands, I enquired what one might substitute for preserved lemons, just in case one had run out... thank god for capers. And it turns out that while a fine-dining chef can sous vide his way through life, you or I can roast. The sauce, I mean source, of all this fanciness? Inter-chef competition! Apparently chefs like to out-chef each other. My shrimp is bigger than your shrimp...

I digress.... so Country Fest was a rip-roaring success. Kendal Fish and Seafoods donated line-caught Cornish smoked mackerel and Jaid's (sans sous vide!) recipe for it was simple and tasted incredible. What a fantastic little British fish; mackerel laugh in the face of fishing pressure that would send a cod swimming into the depths of decline and we can definitely afford to eat a few more of these bad boys, particularly if you can get line-caught champs. Jaid's flounder dish was also totally brilliant (I know, I ate a lot of it). More commonly known as a fluke, flounder is a flatfish, BFF to Ariel the Mermaid and is an example of a local (Irish Sea and UK-wide) fish that we don't see on our menus (or anywhere else) very often. Or ever, unless you like to hang around lobster pots, since in Cumbria it is only really used as lobster bait. Although flounder can be caught by foot (no joke), they will mostly be trawled or possibly caught in gill nets; as a delicious and under-exploited local fish, it's definitely worth a try (avoiding beam trawled if you can - otter trawled is preferable).

During the course of the weekend I spoke to 324 people at the Cumbria Wildlife Trust stand, attested to by the clicker counter I keep in my pocket to track these things. If you do find yourself talking to me at a show this summer please don't be put off if I have one hand in my pocket and appear very interested in its contents!

Highlight of the weekend? Not Martin Platt from Coronation Street selling cheese in the next tent (or his Gordon Ramsay hair do), not the pygmy goats, the close proximity of the wine-tasting stand, or the three-for-the-price-of-less-than-one banana cake I got from the Ginger Bakers. Nope, it would have to be the little girl who said 'Mummy, can you make this at home?". Score! Wild Oceans 1, fish fingers 0.

I hake to boast but...

Donnan Quayside Fisheries in Whitehaven has joined the party and, in what is becoming an enjoyable tradition, gave me free fish. *Smug face*. Three weighty hake steaks from an individual landed in Whitehaven. Local? Tick! Sustainable? By all reports, yes! Can I have a whoop whoop?

Quick hake lesson:
The Goods: northern European stocks of hake are being fished sustainably. Hake can be caught with gill nets which is relatively undamaging to the marine habitat, and it is landed locally (which I was surprised to hear!).
The Bads: Some other stocks, such as southern European hake, are depleted (so I hope the fisherman didn't catch my dinner while on holiday in Portugal). Also it is a deepish water fish which grows and reproduces quite slowly, making it vulnerable. And it can be caught using trawlers, which are more damaging to the seabed.

Goods and bads, goods and bads. I hope my hake, which I have named Jake, wasn't caught locally because Jake was in shallow water getting ready to breed. Must learn more about this.

So thanks very much to the two Richards (Jr and Sr) at Donnan's. I now have 10% discount cards for three Cumbrian fishmongers which I am giving out to any unsuspecting member of the public who makes the mistake of catching my eye and proceeds to patiently listen to my waffle.

Sainsburys in Cockermouth have an interesting couple of signs up in their fish counter area. One is a big picture of a traditional local British fishing boat and a Union Jack, the other is a chalk board with "Regionally caught" printed in the corner and on the day I visited it had haddock and lemon sole written on. Great I thought! They are promoting local fish! I wonder exactly how local they are ...

Me: "Hello Mr Sainsburys Fishman. 'Regionally caught' - does that mean the fish is local to Cumbria?"
Mr Sainsburys: *looks blank*
Me: *indicating the board high up over the counter* "It says 'regionally caught'. I just wondered which 'region' it means"
Mr Sainsburys: *rubber-necks his head to look up and read the board* "Well, it might not mean Cumbria"
Me: "Oh right. So what does it mean?"
Mr Sainsburys: "Well, it might be...north..."
Me: "...of the UK?"
Mr Sainsburys: "...I expect so..."

Deciding to move on I indicate the big Union Jack:

Me: "That's a nice picture of the flag. So you sell a lot of fish from the UK then?"
Mr Sainsburys: "Yes its nearly all from the UK"
Me: "Apart from the tiger prawns?"
Mr Sainsburys: "Yes apart from the tiger prawns"
Me: "And the tilapia?"
Mr Sainsburys: "Yes, and the tilapia"
Me: "And the tuna?"
Mr Sainsburys: "Yes. And the tuna"
Me: *beginning to enjoy myself and hunkering down to read the labels* "And the bream which is farmed in Greece?"

I could make a fun day out just going round supermarkets fish counters.

It is interesting though that a supermarket is starting to show signs of applying the same 'buy British' message to fish as they do to meat and dairy. Good news hopefully! And I don't mean to have a go at Sainsburys and the poor man I harrangued there, but it does show that you still have to look at the labels and that you probably can't rely on the knowledge of the counter assistant.

Donnan's at Whitehaven have a lot of local fish on sale but mentioned to me that they are getting some nice line-caught halibut coming in soon. "Where from?" I asked. Thinking to myself, line-caught is great but it would be even better if they're from the Pacific as I've heard that other stocks of halibut are less well-managed. "The Faroes" they tell me. "Oh right" I say.
Note to self: find out where the Faroes are.

A dab hand! (chortle chortle)

Ah I think there must be endless fish and fishing related puns out there. Despite being too embarrassed to bring myself to listen to my 2 minutes on the radio, I was secretly quite pleased with myself for getting in a comment about the cod stocks being battered. Not enough credit given for that little gem.

So I was right, fish is going to be one of the perks of my job! I went to Cranston's Food Hall in Penrith on Saturday to collect business cards from The Fish Cellar's little counter there. (By the way if you see me on a show stand this summer ask me for the business cards I'm carrying for some of our fishmongers - they've got a discount on them). I got talking to the guys about dab - they're selling them for a pound a fish, it's mad really, so cheap, and apparently marking them as "only £1.00" (that old chestnut) is the only way they can sell them; people won't buy dab if it's marked with the equivalent price per kg. Why is that? I heard one customer ask if they were plaice. They weren't, so she didn't buy them. So it would seem that we have to recognise the name of the fish before we'll buy it? In that case, I will write 'dab' every other sentence, and by the time you have finished reading this you can never again avoid buying dab because you haven't heard of it. You may also be due an award in the category of "persistent reading of a blog about fish".
Dab. I'm going to use it as a paragraph separator, brilliant.
So I was going to buy a dab, to prove a massive point to the world, but The Fish Cellar gents donated one to me without charge bless them. I am in the process of reading The River Cottage Sea Fishing volume, and the fishing legend author has included a recipe for flatfish such as dab, which essentially goes like this: "put it under a hot grill for five minutes". I'm not kidding. So I did! Here is a picture of the result:

I kid you not, it was awesome. Unbelievable. Just call me Delia. And the bones were not a problem, I promise. The meat (do you call cooked fish "meat"??) just lifts off the study skeleton and you can eat the skin, it has almost got no consistency at all.
Dab.
Try it, or another species of largely ignored but very tasty flatfish, I'll even come round and cook it for you, although I predict that my 'self-appointed expert' help with turning the grill on high and putting the fish underneath it will not be necessary. The greater challenge would actually be opening the bag of pre-picked, pre-washed and pre-packed salad. I am trying to grow my own lettuces but so far I am only succeeding in boosting the local slug population....
DAB.

Nearly pooed myself didn't I

Well not literally, but being on the radio this morning was pretty scary. For those of you who were lucky enough to miss it, I was live on Radio Cumbria's breakfast show for a few precious minutes today, during which I tried to waltz neatly around the direct "can I eat this fish? What about this fish?" questions, because as I may have mentioned once or twice... it's rather hard to say.

Take the Solway salmon fishery for example, which was one query raised this morning. So, if I've got my facts right, it's a local fishery managed by the Environment Agency and the season is only opened and fishing permitted once enough fish are deemed to have passed up the river to spawn to enable the fishery to be sustainable. It is also a traditional fishing method (called haaf netting), conducted by individuals on a small scale. But in general Atlantic salmon stocks are considered so severely depleted that common advice is to avoid all wild-caught Atlantic salmon. So what to do?


Not having the exact "right" answer (is there one?), my response would have to be what's probably better known as distraction. Watch me dance, here I go...
Forget about the salmon, pah salmon schmamon. Try something else, something different, look at this shiny new range of gurnard in the fishmonger counter...
See me twirling away into the distance!

In all seriousness, if you can't face the stress of trying to work out if it's better to support a local small-scale, selective, traditional salmon fishery, or to buy fish flown in from Alaska (where you can find sustainably managed wild stocks of salmon), or to purchase farmed salmon (the issues of farming can wait for another day) then just buy something else. Anything else marked as local and/or sustainable. Something line-caught or hand gathered is a good place to start. Which is where your local fishmonger comes in handy. On that note I would like to thank Nik at Kendal Fish and Seafoods (who was on the radio alongside me) for the hand-gathered scallops he presented me with. Are fishy presents going to be a perk of this job? I do hope so!

Now if you'll excuse me it's Friday night and I have scallops to eat, accompanied by Grandpa's pinot, which I may or may not already have started...

A great mystery

Hmmm. Well today I discovered that fishmongers shut shop early. So my trip to Bells in Carlisle was not overly successful, although apparently the guy (Mr Bell?) starts at 4am so I (who got up at 9am) can hardly blame him. Plus I should really have checked opening hours before embarking on my mission. Anyway I digress... I did manage to speak to a very helpful fishmonger by the name of Mark at The Fish Cellar in Penrith's Devonshire Arcade. The Fish Cellar supports Hugh's Fish Fight which is great, good on them, and they sell shrimp from Silloth and, when in season, salmon from Solway. I think I am right in saying that they would sell more locally-landed fish if it were feasible, but there are problems with continuity of supply because of the small amounts being landed. The Fish Cellar would be open to a local fisherman who approached them, but in general but there doesn't seem to be much of a link between the fisherman and the fishmonger.

On my way home from a cup of tea with my Grandpa (who sent me packing with a bottle of Pinot Grigio, don't mind if I do, thanks Grandpa) I nipped into Morrison's in Kendal for my weekly purchase of food for one, and had a chat with the man at the fish counter. Now, I have been lead to believe that there are healthy stocks of plaice and dab in the Cumbrian Irish Sea, but the counter contained plaice and dab from the north east Atlantic. According to Mr Morrisons, in repetition of Mark at The Fish Cellar, the Cumbrian fishermen just don't catch enough.

So what's going on? Is it the case that the fishermen are not landing larger numbers and a wider range of fish because there is no market for it so they catch under quota for some species and discard others? If this is the case then would an increased market for locally-landed fish allow them to land more of their catch (within quota limits), saving the waste of some fish and an increased catch for the same fishing hours?

Or are we already catching what we can and it simply is not enough to supply Cumbria's food outlets?

While I work on this, one of life's great questions, let's pile the pressure on our MPs to pursue the reform of the Common Fisheries Policy with vigour! Lobby your MP via this link: http://www.fishfight.net/blog/fish-fight-debate-in-house-of-commons/

Wasn't Simon King good!

Wanted to say hello and thanks to all the lovely people I met at Rheged yesterday, it was an absolute pleasure! I gather the quiz may have been a little challeging (answers coming on here soon I promise), but that just goes to show how little even people who are interested in wildlife actually know about our marine creatures.... I feel a personal challenge to fix this coming on...oh dear wish me luck!

I was totally heart-warmed by the number of people who care enough about our marine environment to sign a scale for our Petition Fish, and even more by those who stopped to talk with me about the lack of support for local produce when it comes to seafood. Well I'm working on that, let's see what happens.

Next time I'll be out in the public arena is at Hutton Plant and Food Fair on Sunday. I wonder if any local fishmongers or fishermen would be interested in joining me... anyone know of any fishy businesses in Penrith??

'Hooking up' with Nick Martin!

Had a lovely chat with Nick Martin, local celebrity chef, yesterday and it looks promising that he will able to work with us doing cookery demonstrations - look out for us at festivals and fairs across the county this summer. One of us will look like a chef and be cooking fish for you to try, the other will be me.

Post number one

It's Bank Holiday Monday, the unleashing of the full force of this new blog can wait until tomorrow!
Happy Easter everyone (i.e., me as I don't have any followers yet).