St Patrick's Day shenanigans

A recipe for spiced and grilled salmon fillet

One spring St Patrick’s Day years ago, I was walking down a road on the West Coast of Ireland. There was the usual Irish mist blurring the horizon and frizzing my hair. Out of it emerged two men in flat caps and beautifully tailored three-piece tweed suits, waistcoats manacled by heirloom fob watches, trousers tucked into high green waders. Tranquilly, steadily, they wheeled their bicycles towards me, dressed like corporation managers but with fishing rods over their shoulders.

I cross my heart they said, “Top o’ the morn to you.”

In the way of English speakers who haven’t been formally introduced, I asked them what the weather was going to be. They turned together and scrutinised the line of mountains in the distance.

“Well,” they announced, refraining with what must have taken a gargantuan effort from adding ‘Begorrah’, “if you can see the mountains it means it’s going to rain. And if you can’t see the mountains, it means it is raining.”

Then off they went to fish.

They wouldn’t have needed those rods. The lake lay at the bottom of the lane where I was staying with my aunt’s old school friend. Each morning, my very tolerant hostess trudged down towards it in thigh high green Wellington boots. She would stride into the black waters, to the depth of the top of her wellies, and plunge her hand into the numbing chill. She’d wait patiently, then suddenly whisk out a flapping salmon by the tail.

You could not have been blessed with a fish more fresh. We ate it fried, in melted lard. We ate it in a terrible claggy white sauce that was begging to connect her peeling wallpaper back to her damp stone walls. We ate it curried. We ate it stewed. We never once ate it steamed or lightly poached, one of the most fault-free, speedy, methods for cooking a salmon and a most delicious way to eat it with melted butter or a hollandaise sauce.

My next confrontations with the put-upon fish were as the standard mass catering ‘alternative choice’ to chicken breast at conference meals and weddings. It was always served up - that ‘up’ turning it into a most aggressive action that is altogether noisier than simply being served - direct from the fridge, and chilly (Elf & Safety have a lot to answer for when it comes to pleasure), and set next to a border of squeeze bottle-applied florets of mayo. The salmon was always overcooked, with the texture of dry-rotted, forest-fallen, tree trunk, one step removed from sawdust.

It is only recently that cooks have understood that salmon is at its best when eaten rosy in the middle. This is a contentious state of affairs, some diners rejecting it as dangerously undercooked - those same diners being perfectly content to tuck into salmon sushi.

It’s also become popular cooked with the skin still on, which, fried to a crisp, makes delectable mouthfuls that contrast with the soft flesh of the fish. Unless you’re poaching or roasting it which keeps the skin unpleasantly and gummily soft, that skin is delicious plain. But it becomes elevated when used as a conveyor of flavourings from the Middle East, the Caribbean, or India, or Texas and more.

Buy a thick salmon fillet, skin on. Wild salmon will have more flavour and a firmer texture than farm-raised. At least an hour ahead of cooking it, rub the skin with the spice flavour of your choice - one week Jerk, another week Barbecue, the next a home-ground mix of cumin, coriander seed, fennel seed, chilli: over to you - whatever appeals. For a Japanese version, a glaze made by mixing together 2 teaspoons of brown miso paste, 2 teaspoons rice or balsamic vinegar and 2 teaspoons of soy sauce brushed all over the fillet makes an elegant dish when served over a mound of rice noodles and steamed bak choi you have tossed with a little sesame oil and sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds.

Turn on the extractor in your hob hood. Pour a barely visible slick of vegetable oil into a small frying pan and heat high until a drop of water flicked into it immediately sizzles. Then set your salmon, skin side down, into the pan and sear it for 2 minutes. Next, slam a lid on the pan for 1 minute. Then turn the heat off and serve. If it’s still too pink for you, leave it with the lid on 1 minute more.

Serve your salmon fillet skin-side up, if you please, on a bed of steamed spinach. Or these scrumptious lentils. Or a dressed salad. Or alongside anything you’ve a fancy for. And encourage the eating of that crispy, tasty, skin. Reflect on the foodie credentials of your guests if they have proclaimed they have any yet refuse to eat the skin. No judgement, obviously, but…

It’s a suitable dish for the 17th March celebration of St Patrick’s Day.