Ensalada Mexicana with Shrimp

Norma’s, Parker Palm Springs and Ensalada Mexicana oy vey! is my go-to brunch. Always with shrimp. 

Grilled chicken is also an option, but crustacea trumps poultry for me any day, save woodlice. Bushcrafters will tell you they are not dissimilar to crevette gris, however, eating insects is a jungle you can get me the fuck out of. Unless survival hangs in the balance, in which case I’d sooner rummage under fallen branches for bugs to pop than whittle a switch to throw at rabbits. 

Pillbugs live in the desert too and when half your family reside in LA, driving out to Palm Springs will happen. It’s fun once you clear the I-10 jam and turn onto The Gene Autry Trail. When you spot the wind turbines – and there are enough to satiate any inner geek – you’ll know you’re nearly there.

We always stay at The Parker, avoiding weekends/breaks when it typically gets mobbed by a younger crowd. There’s nowhere on earth quite like it. Petanque, fresh lemonade, hammocks, stargazing and Norma’s. Lockdown and this salad is as close I can get, although they serve theirs in a deep-fried tortilla bowl; worth doing if you want to impress, but my current diet doesn’t care much for the crisp. 

Also out are black turtle beans, because not low-carb and I’m at an age no longer prepared to deal with bloat, no matter how good something tastes. 

Having said that, if you are vegan/vegetarian, sub in the beans because they are super healthy and a good source of protein and soluble fibre, which is linked to lowering cholesterol, plus they deliver a tonne of other nutrients, which seasoned meat-dodgers already know. I was vegan once upon a time; it did not work out.

If using dried beans, soak for at least 8 hrs or overnight before cooking – you will have a tastier bean that is easier to digest than canned, and lighter on the wallet too. 50g of dried black turtle beans per person should do.

Serves 2

Ingredients:

  • 18 x tiger prawns, shelled and deveined, tail left on
  • Half an iceberg lettuce, roughly chopped
  • 20 x cherry tomatoes, halved (if large, then quarter)
  • 2 x red chillies, deseeded, chopped
  • 1 x cucumber, skinned, deseeded, chopped
  • 2 x corn on the cob, grilled or roasted, kernels only 
  • 1 red onion, chopped
  • 2 x avocado, chopped
  • 2 tbsp. cumin, ground
  • 1 tbsp. black pepper, ground
  • 1 or 2 limes, juice only + 1 lime. quartered
  • 3 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
  • good pinch of salt

Instructions:

  • Shell your prawns, leaving on the tail, being sure to devein them: refrigerate while you prep the rest
  • Roast or grill your corn on the cob until it takes some colour: you want it a little bit charred: if doing this in the oven, rub with olive oil, put on baking dish and roast at a 220°C, rolling every now and again so they catch some colour
  • When they have cooled, remove the kernels into the bowl running a knife along the cob
  • Combine all the remaining ingredients in the same bowl and give a good toss. Leave to the side while you cook the prawns
  • Make sure you have your cumin and black pepper ready: if you like you can toast your cumin for a minute or two in a non-stick pan to bring out the flavour before grinding, but not necessary
  • Using a non-stick pan, add a small amount of extra virgin olive oil and, on a medium to high heat, add the prawns, sprinkling over the ground cumin and ground black pepper. Cook quickly so the prawns take colour but not dry out: I tend to turn the heat off when the prawns are almost done, leaving them to finish in the cooling pan while I dress the salad with extra virgin olive oil, lime juice and a good pinch of salt
  • Plate up, adding the prawns on top. Serve with tabasco sauce wedges of lime on the side

Tuna Poke

This recipe nods to the poke at Ruben & Ozzy’s – a super casual downtown find in Palm Springs where, in the time before, we would sit at the counter and work our way through small plates, watching the brothers do their thing. North London now and you’d be lucky to get a seat outside since lockdown eased but I’m looking forward to my next counter seat because I eat with my eyes and love the buzz of a good kitchen.

Back to the poke. It’s hard to reconstruct from a memory formed, giddy with excitement at a desert oyster bar on my fifth marg. Luckily Ruben & Ozzy’s online menu fills the blanks – their Mexican poke is made with fresh ahi tuna, avocado, coriander, sliced jalapeño and tossed in a sweet and spicy sauce. Who knows if this comes close because all I remember is theirs was hot and bloody delicious. And I’ve subbed wakame in place of coriander because girl needed a break. But suit yourself.

If you can’t get ahi (Hawaiian for yellow-fin and not to be confused with hamachi yellow-tail/amberjack) just make sure whatever tuna you use is certified sushi/sashimi grade: the process involved is not complicated but guarantees what you have purchased is fit for consuming raw – flash frozen for a specific time at a temp well below the capabilities of a home freezer to get rid of parasites. Now there’s a thought.

Some will tell you this is all nonsense, but given our current predicament, debate over which fish are safe to eat raw over others is a dive into murky waters not worth the bother.   

Serves 2 as a main, tabasco on the side.

Ingredients:

  • 500g raw sushi/sashimi grade tuna
  • 2 x avocado, skinned and chopped into chunks
  • ½ cup dried wakame, reconstituted
  • 1 x bunch spring onions, white parts chopped, green parts thinly sliced
  • 3 jalapeño chillies, deseeded and sliced
  • 1 tbsp. black sesame seeds, toasted
  • 1 tbsp. white sesame seeds, toasted
  • 20ml Kikkoman soy sauce
  • 10ml toasted sesame oil
  • 5 ml Acacia honey

Instructions:

  • Whisk the honey, toasted sesame oil and soy in a bowl large enough to incorporate all the poke ingredients, leave to the side
  • Reconstitute the dried wakame, squeeze the excess moisture out and then roughly chop so you have about a handful
  • Chop the remaining salad ingredients: thinly slice the green ends of the spring onion, cut the white ends into 10mm sections and chop the avocado into slightly bigger chunks. Keep these in a separate bowl along with the wakame
  • Toast the sesame seeds and keep to the side
  • Now cut the tuna into 15mm chunks and avoiding the white sinew: the connective tissue is chewy and should be discarded
  • When you have all these parts ready, combine in the larger bowl giving it a good toss with the dressing and leave for 5 minutes for the flavours to combine before serving, leaving some sesame seeds to sprinkle on top of each bowl at the end

Crab Avocado Salad

No preamble here, just the recommendation that you get a whole cooked crab and remove the white meat yourself. It will take some patience and require tools but worth the effort. 

Serves 2

Ingredients:

  • Whole cooked crab, white meat only
  • 3 large avocados
  • 20 cherry tomatoes
  • 3 spring onions, chopped
  • 1 red onion, half chopped, half finely chopped
  • 1 cucumber
  • 1 bunch coriander, leaves only, torn
  • 2 x limes, juiced
  • 4 red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped 
  • 2 tsp. hot chilli powder
  • good pinch of salt
  • extra virgin olive oil

for the mayonnaise:

  • 2 eggs, yolks only, at room temp
  • 2 tsp. Dijon mustard
  • 1 tbsp. lemon juice
  • 150ml extra virgin olive oil or rapeseed oil
  • good pinch of salt
  • small pinch of pepper

Instructions:

  • This salad is constructed in 3 sections: use a cooking ring, or freestyle into a tower, but before you start, make the mayo – I use a small countertop blender with a blade for this
  • Into the bowl of your blender add the egg yolks, Dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt and pepper and give it a quick whizz
  • Then, keeping the speed of the blade high, introduce the oil very, very slowly: extra virgin olive oil definitely leaves its impression on this mayo, so use rapeseed if you prefer something more neutral
  • Keeping the oil at a fine pour, the mayo should emulsify in a matter of minutes: you only need a couple of tablespoons, but the rest will keep in a jar, refrigerated, for a week  
  • For the base of the salad, peel the cucumber, cut in half and then quarter lengthways, deseed and cube
  • Chop 14 of the cherry toms into quarters and, along with the half of chopped red onion, combine in a bowl with the cucumber, dress with small amount of olive oil and some salt – if you are not using a tower, divide this mix between two plates
  • For the next section, halve the avocados, squeeze out of their skin into a bowl and roughly chop
  • Add the lime, the remaining finely chopped red onion, chopped spring onions, the remaining cherry toms (also quartered), finely chopped chillies, most of the torn coriander leaves and a good pinch of salt
  • You want to give this a good mix, with a fork, so it resembles a coarse guacamole
  • Using this as your next layer, divide between the two plates straight onto the first layer and roughly shape into a disk, incorporating some of the first section into it
  • For the final section, you want to combine two tablespoons of the mayonnaise with the white crab meat and chilli powder
  • Spoon this onto the avocado layer, sprinkle over the last of the coriander and serve with some tabasco

Pork Neck Skewers

Lockdown3 will soon be in the past tense but even with restrictions easing, it’s hard to imagine life returning to what it once was.

A year ago, Boris, flanked by Union Jacks on his Downing Street pulpit, claimed the UK could in 12 weeks ‘send coronavirus packing’. Listening to him fall on the old-school rhetoric that in 1914 reassured war ‘would be over by Christmas’ – the same British spirit that insists the band keeps playing as the ship goes down – I thought to myself: Well, that’s us done for.

Facing Covid, Boris did not however, like some pumped-up General, stay behind the line, or take his aristocratic seat on a lifeboat and keep distance; ironically either stance, this time, would have been preferable. Instead, in an idiotic move only chivalry can muster, and completely against the recommendation of Government scientific advisers, Boris visited a hospital where ‘a few… were actually coronavirus patients’ and ‘shook hands’ (wait for it) ‘with everybody’. 

If you are wondering where the recipe is, just keep scrolling down because I haven’t got a jump widget yet, and this is far from over…

Perhaps lifelong Etonian pal Charles Spencer, by osmosis of proximity, planted a notion in the PM’s hay-topped head that he could pull a Diana? Boris failed there, testing positive for coronavirus shortly after, as would health secretary Hancock, and chief medical adviser Whitty. Boris, no doubt nearer, my god, to thee, ended up in ICU, almost taking his cabinet with him. 

Thanks to the NHS and his title, it was not our PM’s time to ascend the ladder. But how many people he shook hands with that day, or any after, was never fully investigated. There were undoubtedly more casualties, but the press was far too busy focusing on the fate of the man at the helm. 

A year on and there’s the vaccine rollout to be grateful for, but that doesn’t shrug the feeling Boris likes the title more than the job. Back on the podium a few days ago, flanked by flags, Whitty and Vallance, Boris looked, as ever, like he just woke up. 

With gyms shut and an insomniac mind working overtime pardon me for mulling over this detail of his speech: 

‘…on Monday the 12th I will be going to the pub myself – and cautiously but irreversibly raising a pint of beer to my lips.’

I have never thought the act of bringing a pint to my lips as irreversible, because the action is reversible: you could change your mind and put the pint down, but you’ve presumably paid for the pint so why not drink it? It is reasonable to think that most would like to drink booze they’ve paid for, so why use this word at all? What does our obfuscating squealer really mean? 

Does he mean that when Monday’s pint meets his lips, it will never leave? That would be too impractical to be taken literally. Does he mean he will down it in one? And that by strength of volition, no force will derail him of his intention to do so? Even if he gets heckled?

Or is he speaking allegorically? Is this pint his Golding-talisman for Co-Brexit and he/we shall drink that pint, come what may? Is that why he balances the irreversible act with caution? 

Or is this irreversible pint a secret fist pump to his alma mater and the Bullingdon Club, who know full well, the irreversible action of consuming beer, is also reversible, if you throw it all up: at Oktoberfest, people do this to extend their drinking day; perhaps a habit that extends to all drinking clubs? In any case, this paradox suits the fickle beast of politics well, conveniently working for policy makers who don’t like following their own rules.

You see, it’s not quantum physics that puzzles me but the fact that we are continuously told that prime Boris’s befuddled speeches make him relatable when in fact what they make him is dangerous. Ignoring the berrufled delivery and focusing instead on what is said, there’s plenty to pull apart: the wordplay between ‘certification’ and ‘passport’ being another example. No pressure on parents dealing with home-schooling but shouldn’t Animal Farm be mandatory? It’s pretty short and most students like that.

I say this because having tutored Eng. Lit for 20 years, before I quit there were plenty that bemoaned the prospect of reading Moby Dick, me being one. But then there are still plenty who fall for Boris’s je-ne-sais-what-the-actual-fuck-quoi, his bumbling buffoonery turning them weak at the knees. Ergo, laziness does not always equal incompetence: make no mistake, this is a man continuously on the move.   

Plenty of anecdotes to choose from, but I will take this from 1987 to illustrate the point: our budding political lothario turns up to his Shropshire nuptials late, with neither shoes nor trousers. Allegra, the Oxford-educated woman waiting down the aisle commented later that the wedding was the end of their relationship, not the beginning; a statement so steeped in wisdom that it fits every engagement Boris has held since, private or public. 

Why should any of this matter? I voted for him after all. Well, here’s the rub: fast forward to 2020 and annoyingly the litany of marriages, divorces, annulments and affairs along with a collateral of children gives enough press fodder to divert attention from news that matters to Boris’s private life. 2021, and this topic finally warrants attention: don’t mind what consenting adults do behind closed doors, but when you use tax payers’ money to fund your insatiable wandering libido, yeah it does fucking matter. 

So, here we are: beer gardens about to re-open with most of us probably at one stage or another of liver cirrhosis, in limbo, and/or depressed, knowing, as we sip pints, pinot gris, ethanol or whatever, that unlike people voted into office, our relationship with Covid will probably never end. 

And then there is the other, exhausting realisation: understanding the truth of what Orwell said then but feeling it now: 

‘In our age, there is no such thing as ‘keeping out of politics’. All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia’.

Anyway, this pork should be cooked over hot coals.

Serves 2, or 3, making approx. 12 bamboo skewers at 4 inches long

Ingredients:

  • 500g pork neck (try to get Ibérico for the extra marbling)

Instructions:

  • Soak the skewers for an hour in water so they do not burn later
  • Slice the pork neck into cubes: 3 or 4 pieces should fit on each skewer. I alternate fatty pieces with more lean cubes so that every piece benefits the merits of the others
  • Cooking over lump wood charcoal, do not put the skewers on when the coal is at its hottest (we do a round of chorizo first as that can handle high heat). Instead, wait till the heat is moderate – all the coals should be completely grey
  • Turn the skewers frequently, taking care that the pork does not burn; when the fat drips, the coal can flame but these flames you can and should fan out  

Romesco Sauce

Spring and last week the daytime temperature in London came close to freezing. One day it even snowed for an hour; I couldn’t tell you which as they are all, more or less, the same. This sauce packs some welcome heat and goes well with the pork neck recipe that follows.

Makes 2 jars & refrigerated, keeps for a week.

Ingredients:

  • 70g blanched almonds
  • 6 garlic cloves, peeled
  • 2-inch left over sourdough, dried out, torn into chunks
  • 100ml extra virgin olive oil
  • 200g whole piquillo peppers
  • 1 x 400g tin chopped tomatoes
  • 3 tbsp. Jerez vinegar
  • tsp. hot smoked paprika 
  • ½ tsp Maldon salt

Instructions:

  • In a non-stick pan, add a little of the olive oil and in batches, toast the almonds, then the garlic cloves and then the chunks of bread; when each batch is done, tip the contents into a blender
  • Add the Navarra peppers to the mix and give it all a whizz
  • Now add the remaining ingredients and blend to the consistency you like

Coquinas al Ajillo

I am a clam enthusiast, but out of the bevy of bivalve molluscs, my heart belongs to coquinas. 

In the before-time, coquinas first happened in Málaga. And then kept on happening until the inevitable flight home. 

Lockdown3, I was amazed to spot coquinas at the fish monger on Swain’s Lane and pounced. I also saw Charles Dance on the heath opposite, but did not pounce. Definitely thought about it though. 

So, what makes donax variabilis special? As a shell seeker, I’ve given this some thought and decided that, besides the fine flavour, it’s the clam to shell ratio: impressive bounty for something so small. And this recipe is a doddle. 

You can, if you think necessary, leave the clams in a litre of cold water mixed with a tablespoon of Maldon salt for an hour to purge any sand. I find coquinas don’t need it, but it does no harm, so long as you don’t use table salt: it has to be sea salt. You might also want some bread for mopping up afterwards. Or a spoon.  

For 2

Ingredients:

  • 500g coquinas
  • 4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  • Extra virgin olive oil
  • 50ml Manzanilla sherry
  • Handful of parsley, leaves only, finely chopped
  • Pinch of salt, optional

Instructions:

  • Add a good glug of olive oil in a pan, add the garlic, then put the heat on; I find finely chopped garlic added to hot oil often burns
  • Once the garlic starts to cook, even sizzle, add the clams, the finely chopped parsley and a pinch of salt
  • Now turn the heat up a little. You want to keep an eye on this as you add the sherry; this dish does not take long and you don’t want to overcook the clams
  • As soon as the shells pop open, serve – the juices should have already started to emulsify  

Beef Kohlrabi Salad

My mouth is on fire and not from all the swearing, because there hasn’t been much swearing, or much of anything in March other than relentless insomnia. Post-Jan and my spirits have crashed into a slough of despond. This feels like the slowest month.

But then so did Jan. And then Feb. Guess we are all stuck on rinse and repeat until something changes.

Asides from ‘miso soup Monday’, this recipe is also on repeat each week. I love cooking but menu planning is doing my nut in, so the fact this recipe is still in demand in our household through Covid means it’s a keeper.

It doesn’t take that long to make, once you learn the drill.

Adapted from Luke Nguyen’s, but not by much, the main difference is subbing Nguyen’s fillet for ribeye, pan searing it rare before thinly slicing and then removing any noticeable fat before the final toss. I sub for ribeye because the fat is ironically what you want: not the chunky bits so much when you are done searing, but the marbling through the flesh that compliments the flavours of this tart dish. If you want a super low fat recipe, then beef fillet will suit you better, but those on a keto vibe, or who don’t mind spending extra cals for flavour, ribeye’s the way.

Now comes the heat: I up the chilli content in the sauce, because gotta get your kicks somewhere. Start with 1 bird’s eye chili if you’re not sure – they might be small but they pack a punch.

Serves 2.

Ingredients:

  • 1 white kohlrabi
  • 1 large carrot
  • 1 tbsp. caster sugar
  • 1 shot of white wine vinegar
  • 2 x ribeye steaks
  • 1 tbsp. rapeseed oil
  • 1 bunch mint
  • 1 bunch coriander
  • 1 bunch Thai basil
  • 10 small, or 5 banana shallots
  • 3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
  • handful of shelled monkey nuts
  • sunflower oil

for the sauce:

  • 1 lemon, juice only
  • 2 tbsp. caster sugar
  • 1 tbsp. fish sauce
  • 2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
  • 4 bird’s eye chillies, finely chopped

Instructions:

  • Make the sauce first: combine all the ingredients in a jar, give a shake and leave to the side till the end
  • Julienne the kohlrabi and the carrot into a bowl, add the sugar and vinegar, toss and pop in the fridge for an hour  
  • Wash the herbs and leave to dry on a cloth, or give them a spin
  • Now thinly slice the shallots and deep fry in sunflower oil: you do not need a lot, so use a small pan and after draining, transfer to kitchen towel until needed
  • Shell the monkey nuts, roast in a pan and then once cool, roughly crush
  • Take the herbs off the stalk, so mostly leaves only and roughly chop
  • In a non-stick pan add the rapeseed oil and thin slices of garlic, cook till crispy, remove from oil and leave on kitchen towel
  • Add the steaks to the same pan and sear on either side till cooked to your preference: I aim for rare – the citrus in the sauce also helps ‘cook’ the rare meat just as tiger’s milk does
  • Let the steak sit for a good few minutes before slicing it across the grain
  • Drain the kohlrabi/carrot mix, then toss with the chopped herbs, the beef slices and, most of the crushed nuts and crispy shallots
  • Arrange in a sort of pile, adding some more crushed nuts and crispy shallots at the end. Serve with wedges of lime 

King Prawn Kare Lomen

Dear Wagamama, 

What happened to Ebi Kare Lomen? One day, just like life as we knew it, it disappeared.

FFS.

In all seriousness, Ebi Kare Lomen was the only reason I ever went to Wagamama: I’d sub the egg noodles with extra everything else because it was all about the heat of the curried sauce, king prawns and the crunch of beansprouts, cucumber and fresh coriander – all topped with a squeeze of lime. There are plenty on social media who feel the same, so I know I’m not alone.

Like me, they have probably ruined a few tops eating this dish. The first was a sky-blue woven linen halter neck number from Whistles that cost me a fortune at the time, being a struggling artist and all that. It was the 90s and Wagamama had just landed in Bloomsbury. Tucked away in a narrow side street between the British Museum and New Oxford Street, the experience was a novelty: in the infancy of dating dh, we waited outside because no booking, until ushered to a basement of shared tables in a brightly lit, bustling canteen.

Dial forward to the Camden branch, where I ruined more tops undoubtably smashed out of my face. Thankfully, this Wagamama was low lit; I’d come away thinking I was finally in control of the lomen, only to find tell-tale crusted curry spots everywhere the next day. 

I am probably not selling this, but if you hit here because you miss the dish, then you know it was worth it. 

For 2 people, or 3.

Ingredients:

  • 21 king prawns, peeled (keeping tails attached) and deveined
  • 1 litre chicken stock, reduced to 500ml
  • I x 400g can coconut cream
  • 1 inch wedge of solid creamed coconut
  • 2 x shirataki noodle packs
  • 2 bird’s eye Thai chilies, slightly crushed
  • 1 tbsp. rapeseed oil
  • 2 tsp hot curry powder
  • 400g beansprouts
  • 2 cucumbers, peeled and julienned, without seeds
  • 2 bunches spring onions, halved and then shredded lengthways
  • 1 x large bunch coriander, leaves only
  • lime wedges

for the kare lomen:

  • 5 sticks lemongrass, trimmed, bashed and chopped
  • 2 inch galangal root, peeled and chopped
  • 4 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 7 kaffir lime leaves, chopped
  • 1 heaped tsp. Thai red curry paste
  • 1 tbsp. fish sauce 
  • 1 tbsp. lime juice
  • 1 tsp sweet paprika
  • 1 tsp fennel seeds
  • ½ tsp turmeric
  • ½ tsp shrimp paste 

Instructions:

  • Reduce the chicken stock: I start with 1 litre and reduce by half just to get the extra concentration of flavour and give the liquid more body
  • Prep the prawns, keeping the heads in the freezer for future stocks. Once prepped, pop in the fridge till needed 
  • Drain the shirataki noodles. I use 2 packs: I am not sure of the drained weight but the packs are 375g each. Run the drained noodles under cold water and then leave them to the side
  • Next make the kare loman: take all the kare loman ingredients and blend until they form a rough paste: the lemongrass will make it look twiggy, but as you are straining the sauce later that doesn’t matter 
  • Pop the mix in a non-stick pan and heat for a few minutes over a medium flame to release the fragrance
  • Turn the heat down to low and add the chicken stock, giving it a good stir, then add the can of coconut cream and crushed Thai chillies: you want the sauce to fully incorporate but do not let it come to boil too quickly as the coconut cream can split, so low and slow until the sauce reaches a good simmer
  • While you are waiting for this to happen, toss the prawns in the curry powder and fry using rapeseed oil in a non-stick pan until just done: turn the heat off and leave them there until you divvy them out
  • Strain the broth through a fine sieve to remove all the bits, and then return again to a low heat and add the solid cube of creamed coconut, which will push the sauce to a thicker consistency
  • Now add the drained shirataki noodles the sauce and heat through, again avoiding a rapid boil
  • Divide the beansprouts, cucumber, coriander and spring onions between bowls, and the prawns
  • When piping hot add the kare lomen and noodle. Serve with wedges of lime

CHẢ CÁ LàVỌNG

Home cooking through Lockdown 3 has me revisiting dishes from the past. Time spent in Hà Nội recalls 3 that I am still obsessed with: beef pho, bún chả, and chả cá lã vọng. So, here’s my take on one. 

Like many visitors to the capital of Vietnam, dh and I made our pilgrimage to the restaurant on which the reputation of this dish rests; at a narrow trade street corner now crowded with impersonators, the original unsurprisingly inhabits the oldest building there, with rickety stairs leading to an unassuming first-floor dining space. And the memory of this meal has happily left its indelible turmeric stain on my heart.

Typically made with snakehead fish, gurnard is a fantastic sub with exactly the right temperament for this recipe. Widespread in the British Isles, gurnard might look ugly to some, but since the Covid shitshow started I have been steadily falling in love with this googly-eyed fish. The name comes from ’groneur’ – French for ‘grunt’ – because they emit growling sounds from their swim bladder. But, before you go petting one on your next wild swim, know that their spikey spines inflict a venomous sting. If you can’t get gurnard, tilapia makes a good second and can be found ready filleted in the frozen section of most Asian supermarkets. 

Another departure from the original will be using considerably less oil: I do so because gyms are shut and there is nowhere for those extra calories to go other than my ass. Some light frying happens, but then I add the fish to cast iron skillets hot out of the oven ready with crispy garlic and spring onion.

The vermicelli side is usually served with mắm nêm sauce, but after making this for family, consensus is that most prefer nước chấm. I have included both recipes at the bottom, so take your choice. Also, chả cá lã vọng is served with rice paper to make summer rolls. I opt for iceberg lettuce instead, keeping the calories down. 

If you do not have cast iron skillets you can make this entirely on a stovetop using a non-stick pan.

Serves 2

Ingredients:

  • 600g gurnard (or tilapia), filleted, skin off, cut into 2-inch pieces
  • 80g vermicelli mung bean noodle
  • ½ iceberg lettuce
  • 1 x bunch spring onion, cut in half, dividing white from green
  • 3 long red chillies, deseeded and cut into rings
  • 1 x bunch dill
  • 1 x bunch coriander
  • 1 x bunch Thai basil
  • 1 x bunch mint
  • rapeseed oil for frying

for the marinade:

  • 2inch pieces galangal, peeled and chopped
  • 1inch piece ginger, peeled and chopped
  • 2 small round shallots, peeled and chopped
  • 1 x lemongrass, entire stalk, chopped
  • 2 tbsp. rapeseed oil
  • 2 heaped tsp. ground turmeric
  • 2 tsp fish sauce
  • 1 tsp. shrimp paste
  • pinch of salt
  • pinch of black pepper

Mắm nêm sauce:

  • 1 tsp. fine shrimp paste
  • 2 tbs fresh squeezed lime juice
  • 2 tbs of sugar
  • 2 tbs of water
  • 1 tsp. garlic minced
  • 1 tsp. chilli chopped or sambal

Nước chấm sauce: 

  • 9 tablespoons/150ml boiled water
  • 3 tablespoons lime juice
  • 3 tablespoons sugar
  • 4 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 1 clove garlic, crushed
  • 2 bird’s eye chilies, chopped

Instructions:

  • Start by washing all the herbs. Spin or leave to air dry on a kitchen towel while you prep the rest
  • Make the marinade for the fish: in a small grinder add all the marinade ingredients and process into a paste
  • Transfer the marinade to a bowl, add the fish pieces and (ideally using disposable gloves unless you want yellow hands) rub the mixture all over the fish pieces. Leave for a minimum of an hour 
  • Rehydrate the vermicelli noodles in water, topping up with boiling; they should not take longer than 10 minutes to soften. Drain and leave at room temp until ready to serve
  • Put your cast iron skillet in an oven heated to 220°C 
  • Make the sauce for the vermicelli by combining all the ingredients – I use an old jar with a lid and giving it a good shake
  • Add some rapeseed oil to the skillet, then add the sliced garlic giving it a minute or two before adding the halved spring onions (if you are cooking everything on the stove top then cook the garlic and spring onions first, getting them perfectly crisp, plate and then place the cooked fish and dill on top) 
  • Put a large non-stick pan over high heat and add the fish pieces, sear quickly, for a few minutes each side, so they catch a good gold-brown colour
  • If cooking in batches, remove the fillets to a plate lined with kitchen paper and top up with more rapeseed oil for every batch you do 
  • Remove the dishes from the oven, place the fish on top and the dill: the heat from the dishes should begin to wilt the dill a little
  • Divide the iceberg lettuce so you have approx. a quarter wedge per person
  • Serve with a small side of vermicelli noodles, along with some coriander, Thai basil and mint, and some fresh chili slices. The sauce goes well will everything 

Goan Stuffed Squid with Tiger Prawn

No preamble here, just the recipe.

Ingredients:

  • 3 med-large squids, approx. 500g each
  • 14 tiger prawns, shelled and deveined
  • 2 onions, finely chopped
  • Rapeseed oil
  • A good quantity of Goan recheado masala (recipe below)

Instructions:

  • Clean the squid thoroughly, keeping tubes whole, removing tentacles and wings
  • Chop tentacles and wings into small cubes
  • Shell and devein tiger prawns, chop into small cubes
  • In a non-stick pan, add a tablespoon of rapeseed oil and fry the chopped onion till soft
  • Now add 2 heaped tablepoons of recheado masala and fry for a minute 
  • Add the chopped squid, cook for about 2 minutes on high flame and add the tiger prawn, cooking for a further minute. Turn off heat and leave in pan till cool enough to handle
  • Snip off or stab the end of the squid tubes to make a tiny hole for air to release
  • Stuff the squid tube with the mix and then, using the same pan, add another tablespoon of rapeseed oil and cook the tubes, turning every so often till they get some colour: you can use toothpicks to secure the larger end of the tube so less of the filling comes out, but I don’t bother; turns out, as it all ends up heaped on the same plate, those bits just get more crispy
  • Once the tubes start to colour, add 2 more tbsp. recheado masala along with a good splash of water and cook on a medium to high flame until the masala caramelises sufficiently to coat the squid
  • Serve, sliced, with anything left in the pan on top

Goan Recheado Masala

This keeps well in the fridge, should be good for a month.

Ingredients:

  • 100g whole dry stemless Kashmiri chillies
  • 200ml white wine vinegar
  • 8 cloves
  • 3 whole cardamom pods
  • 2 x cinnamon sticks, broken up
  • 1 tsp whole cumin seeds
  • 1 tsp crushed black peppercorns
  • 2 onions, sliced
  • 1 tbsp. rapeseed oil
  • 5 tbsp. palm sugar
  • whole head garlic, peeled and roughly chopped 
  • 1 inch ginger, peeled and roughly chopped

Instructions:

  • Place the chillies in a bowl with the vinegar and dry spices: the cloves, cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, cumin seeds and black pepper. Give it all a toss and leave for 3-5hrs, mixing every so often
  • Rapeseed oil in a non-stick pan and add the onion slices. Cook at a high heat so the onions take quick colour but do not burn. Turn the heat off and leave to cool
  • In a small blender, add the onions along with the chilli mixture and grind everything into a paste
  • Taste the paste (Kashmiri chillies are mild so go ahead) and adjust if need be; it should be tangy, sweet and tart