Hooked on a feeling

I'm flying in the face of a hunter-gatherer's natural instincts.

Good news. My mother-in-law isn’t speaking to me. Some might ask how I achieved such a glorious outcome. The reason for the silent treatment is my fly-fishing. I’m relatively new to the sport and, although my casting leaves a lot to be desired, I enjoy the contemplative nature of standing in a river and the good humour of trying to catch a fish. Truth be told, I don’t care if I catch one or not; it’s the recreation I enjoy.

On the rare occasion I do catch a trout, it is released with dignity – I have no interest in fishing to the point of destruction. This is the reason for the extended silence. A true forager at heart, my mother-in-law believes whatever is found or caught in the wild should be brought home to eat (or burn – her pine-cone expeditions are legendary and have ­possibly involved some form of trespass). By returning empty-handed, I am letting the team down, and deemed not worthy of conversation.

Although much of the world sings the edible praises of trout, here freshwater fish are frequently regarded as insipid and muddy-tasting, with faint flavours of dirt and the texture of wet cardboard. Not exactly the most appetising of features, I agree, which is why most classical cookbooks advise poaching it whole to serve cold with mayonnaise and cucumber. They are a perfect combination.

Were I to change my mind about bringing home a trout (I won’t), I might be inclined to cook it in foil so it simultaneously bakes and steams, keeping the flesh succulent and delicate, then serve it with a salad of new potatoes and cucumber. Or I’d wrap the trout in bacon and cook it at a high temperature, with a filling of rosemary and butter. That’s about as creative as I want to be. The bacon provides rich, smoky flavours that go well with the delicate taste of the fish. A side salad of roasted capsicums is all that’s needed to complete the picture.

It’s not just trout that respond well to this kind of treatment. Snapper, salmon and blue cod are particularly good cooked whole. There is something special about fish cooked on the bone; the flavour seems deeper and the flesh more tender. The use of the Japanese ingredient miso adds a mild, malty but subtle seasoning. It’s a decent dish, and one that may convince my mother-in-law to start speaking to me again.

Whole Baked Fish with Miso Mayonnaise

1 large whole fish, scaled and gutted

optional: pepper

Heat the oven to 220°C – this may seem hot, but the skin needs to be crisp and the flesh succulently tender. Place the fish on a piece of baking paper, with the rosemary sprigs and butter inside the belly. Season inside and out with salt. Do not use pepper. Wrap the bacon rashers around the fish and place in a roasting dish. Bake for 30 minutes until the skin is crisp and the flesh is translucent and can be easily pulled away from the bone. Remove from the oven and set aside for 15 minutes before serving with the ­mayonnaise.

To make the dressing, peel the garlic and place in a food processor bowl with a good pinch of salt. Blend until finely chopped, then add the miso paste and egg yolks. Keep the motor running and slowly pour in the grapeseed oil until the mayonnaise begins to thicken. You can now add the sesame oil and lemon juice. Continue mixing until all the oil is used and the mayonnaise is thick. Add salt and pepper if required.

Serves 4.

Serve this salad on its own or as a ­side element to accompany a main course. In this instance the sweetness of the capsicums will balance the robust ­flavour of the baked fish. Mixed colours of capsicum make a more attractive dish.

Roasted Capsicums with Herb Sauce

4 capsicums, mixed colours

salt

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Coat the ­capsicums in oil, then place on a baking tray and roast until the skins have blackened – about 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and place in a plastic bag or wrap in newspaper. Let them cool for at least 30 minutes (this makes them easier to peel). Remove the skins, cut them in half and seed and core. Do not be tempted to run them under cold running water to remove the skin as this will wash away the bitter-sweet juices. Place the capsicums on a plate and spoon the herb sauce around them. Serve warm.

Make the dressing by putting the herbs into a food processor with the peeled garlic and oil. Purée until smooth, then season with salt.

Serves 4.

My paternal grandmother was a deft hand at the afternoon-tea cake and this recipe would have pleased her immensely. It’s a wonderfully light cake with no flour. Be warned, though: I make no apologies for it being satisfyingly addictive.

Berry and Hazelnut Cake

250g hazelnuts

200g berries

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Grease and flour a 24cm springform tin, then line the base with baking paper. Dry-fry the hazelnuts in a frying pan over a low heat, shaking the pan constantly. Toast until golden brown, remove from the heat and allow to cool. Tip the nuts into a food processor and carefully grind to a fine crumb – too much and you will end up with hazelnut butter. (That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but in this instance it’s not what you want.)

Separate the eggs and whisk the yolks with the sugar until pale and creamy. Stir in the nuts. In a separate bowl whisk the egg whites until firm peaks, then gently fold into the yolk mixture. Pour the batter into the cake tin and bake for 45 minutes. Remove from the oven, then cool for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack. Slice the cake in half around the equator and place the base on a large flat plate. Whip the cream to soft billowing folds and spread over the base, then cover with berries. Top with the other half of the cake and serve.

Serves 6-8.