Curing and Smoking - Steven Lamb

I love the River Cottage handbooks, every time I write about them I find myself enthusing about the same things - they're lovely to handle, look great, are funny and engaging as well as informative, and generally speaking are as useful as any set of books could possibly be. Book number 13 deals with curing and smoking, it's been my bedtime reading for the past few nights and is the reason I've spent the best part of an hour researching salt on the internet this afternoon. I had no idea there was so much to know about salt.

As someone who lives in a city centre flat deep in the Midlands there are titles in this series which are of limited use to me on a day to day basis - the ones about fishing, sea shore foraging, and chickens don't get quite as much use as I'd like - but at least I have enough garden access through D to have found the allotment and fruit tree volumes more than just inspiring. It's the flat dwelling part of my lifestyle which will hold me back from really exploring the world of smoking and curing. I have nowhere to hang sausages to age them, and although I'm still playing with the idea of buying a stove top hot smoker I suspect that it'll just be something that gathers dust. My father and stepmother however have the space, equipment, and expertise to do all these things (my stepmother's pickled herring is amazing, she does one cure with Christmassy spices which is particularly memorable, it has nothing to do with this book - just thought I'd mention it) so perhaps I can experiment a bit more with the smoking element when I'm next up there.

Meanwhile there are still projects (anything that takes more than a few hours to cook is surely a project) that even I can have a go at. There's a recipe for salt beef which looks especially good, theoretically I could make sauerkraut but despite it being a really good probiotic food I've never really taken to it. What I really want to have a go at though is dry cured streaky bacon. It looks like it can basically be done in the fridge, takes about 10 days to have something ready to fry, and seems like a skill it would be good to have. The required pork belly is easily, and reasonably cheaply, available from local butchers so if I somehow make a mess of it at least I won't have spent a fortune in the process. What I feel I can make from this book though is only part of it's charm for me. I like to know how food is put together, there's a world of cured meat products in here which had hitherto passed me by which means all sorts of things to seek out and try even if I never do get the chance to make them.

'Curing and Smoking' also feels slightly different to the other River cottage handbooks - this is the first one that explicitly deals with the possibility that you might want to sell what you're producing with a short but helpful section on commercial considerations. This is a subject dear to my heart, I would love to see more small producers working on a local basis, I want to buy things from people who really understand what they're selling, who know their product inside out, and who care about them because basically I consider it to be a far more sustainable model. Paying a bit more to support small, quality, producers is future proofing.
That section on commercial considerations is only a couple of pages long but in some way it changes the tone of the whole series - the others have essentially been about hobbies and activities (which is no criticism) but 'Curing and Smoking' has the potential to be something more than a hobby or a weekend activity. I'm hopeful that at some point a book about cheese making will be forthcoming - something else I've always wanted to have a go at but won't be able to do in a flat but meanwhile this is an excellent addition to a brilliant series.    

Booze - John Wright

A new River Cottage handbook is, as far as I'm concerned, a cause for celebration. A new River Cottage handbook from John Wright is most certainly cause for a double celebration (he's brilliant). I've almost certainly mentioned this every time I've written about a River Cottage book but the thing I like most about the brand is the number of people involved in it - all of them clearly talented, passionate, individuals - it'a all very inspiring.

'Booze' is a subject dear to my heart, basically because it's also my job - at least selling it is and with that comes the expectation that I know what I'm talking about. Generally I do, though one of the really exciting things about wine is that there is always more to learn (sometimes it's irresistible just to make stuff up). Where I'm going with this is that I know a lot about the theory of making wine, beers, spirits, and cider but reading this makes me realise that's not quite the same as knowing how to actually make it.

My home made booze has been confined to infusions - I'm quite conservative in my drinking preferences so it's a definite yes to sloe or damson gin or vodka, general approval for blackberry whisky, and a marked ambivalence to the thing I think I made out of rhubarb which smelled like cabbage and ended up down the sink (I have learnt since then to label bottles). The sink also ended up claiming the virulent red poppy liquor I once bought and should claim the holly eau de vie that was really quite expensive (presumably not easy to make as holly is poisonous) and  is - well lets just say probably an acquired taste.

All the ordinary safe infusions are in here along with useful information about fruit sugar and alcohol (one early experiment on my part with brandy and plums went badly wrong because I didn't use enough alcohol) and then Wright starts to explore the more colourful. Lulled by talk of pomegranate rum (Wright doesn't care for pomegranates in the ordinary way) he leads the reader through making their own absinthe (by infusion, not distillation - it's illegal to distil your own alcohol in the UK without a licence) and from there to the oldest drink in the world  - vodka infused with amber, a romantic and beguiling idea. The good thing about infusions is that they're basically simple to make requiring only something to stick them in and somewhere suitable to mature them, and the base ingredients don't have to be the most expensive - even people in small flats can tackle this sort of thing.

Wine, cider, and beer production demand more equipment and space. If I had the space to make any of them it would be beer, mostly because it used to be one of those basic housewifely skills that any country based woman would have had a handle on. I don't have the space but I'm filling some embarrassing gaps in my knowledge from this book. The cider bit is fascinating too, we have a lovely local supplier for cider (Rob of the Bottle Kicking Cider Company) who has shown me around his cider making operation (all done in the shed at the bottom of his garden) it started as a hobby and has turned into a business which is something else I find inspiring (also it's good cider, as well as drinking it I like to cook with it - it's great with mussels and pheasants). This is another romantic and beguiling idea - that you can start with the knowledge in a book like this and end up living the good life.

Regardless of intention to infuse ferment or brew this book is also a damn good read. John Wright is an engaging writer, he has a wonderful talent for relating funny anecdotes along with all the technical detail. His instructions are clear and thorough - another thing I really like about the River Cottage Handbooks is how well they explain not just how to do things but why you have to do them, it makes all the difference. This book will be bed time reading for quite some time to come, it will also likely form the basis of my Christmas shopping - everyone's getting a copy!

Chicken & Eggs - Mark Diacono

After a very hectic few weeks I'm finally sitting in a reasonably tidy flat, awake, and happy in the knowledge that absolutely nothing needs washing. I've even put away all the books that came out of my bedroom when I redecorated, and yes, that's taken me five weeks to do - anyway it feels good to be relatively organised, so good that more organisation might be called for.

All of which sort of brings me round to 'Chicken & Eggs', I might have mentioned (a lot of times) that I'm a big fan of the River Cottage handbooks so despite living in a second floor city centre flat a book that dealt with chicken keeping was a must (although there's much more to it than that). As Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall points out in his introduction to the book the way we eat chicken and the way we treat chickens makes for a neat illustration of the current debates around food. When I was a child we kept chickens, we had a happy habitat for them - a large garden free of anything they could damage and short on neighbours for them to annoy - my sister and I enjoyed feeding them and loved collecting eggs. We also had sheep so Sunday roasts were generally chicken or lamb, but it was a Sunday thing only. This week I had an egg on Monday, Tuesday was chicken for lunch, more chicken for dinner. There was chicken on Wednesday, and chicken again tonight, it's more than probable that chicken will feature in some form on Friday and Saturday too because it's hard to avoid in the work canteen. This week is a little unusual because I'm emptying out my freezer (next week it'll mostly be what I think are pheasants) but it's not that unusual which when I stop and think about it is shocking.

Chicken is so ubiquitous, and so cheap, that a moments reflection suggests that the welfare standards for some of the meat I'm eating can't be as high as I would like. With eggs it's less problematical, both the egg itself (with codes that the book handily explains) and the boxes are clearly labelled, any supermarket will offer a free range organic option and the price difference is not so huge that it's a deal breaker even on my limited budget. Meat is a different matter - not the reassuringly expensive free range bird I might buy to roast, but the 'basics' or 'essentials' pack of wings that are so nice cooked in loads of lemon and basil, or any of the many boxes of salad, or the sandwiches, or the take-away; where does it all come from? Now I have actually spent some time thinking about it, it's definitely something to be better organised about.

Back to 'Chicken & Eggs' and I'll start with a quick list of all the things I really like about this book. The first has to be that as well as being about the chickens you might keep it's also about the eggs and meat that you'll still buy which makes it feel altogether relevant even if you can't (or don't want to) keep chickens, the recipe section obviously works regardless of where the ingredients come from. I love the practical advice about plucking, gutting, boning, and generally preparing the birds - pheasants and partridges are much cheaper to buy in feather during game season (although plucking a bird is the kitchen job I'm most squeamish about and have so far avoided) it's helpful to have a clear guide with pictures to help tackle these things. It's also a beautiful book to look at - I've never seen an obviously dead chicken look as good as it does here Mark Diacono isn't just a good writer (and he is a good writer; clear, informative, interesting, and witty) he's a gifted photographer. Finally, and as with his earlier titles for the series (allotments and fruit) there is a lot of very practical advice about getting set up and how to work out what you want.

I know there are plenty of books about chicken keeping out there and as I haven't had cause to read them I don't know if this one is the best or not, however I don't think a non chicken keeper could do better than this, and I do think every (non vegetarian) kitchen probably needs a copy - partly for the excellent recipes, partly because reading it (and who knew that reading about chicken ailments could be so interesting?) raised questions for me about how and what I eat which are important. Finally, as a book it's just a really nice object - perfect size, lovely feel, lots of information, and great pictures.

Holidays and Bread

I've been away in the Scottish borders for a week - it's a part of the country I love more each time I go there. It has idyllic scenery packed full of romantic architecture and history, we saw a deer in the garden (it was a badger last time), there are house martins nesting above the windows, we heard wood peckers in the trees behind the house, and there's a particularly brilliant bookshop a couple of villages away - what's not to love. We're lucky to have a particularly comfortable flat to borrow, it has an aga in it which has rather added to my love affair with the location and basically means I've spent the last week living a pleasantly middle class dream.  

With the aga waiting for me part of my holiday packing was the River Cottage 'Bread' handbook. I can't remember now if it was the first or second book from the River Cottage series that I bought but it was certainly the one that sold me on them, I think it's the best basic bread guide around - I've certainly not seen anything to beat it yet. What I particularly like about all the handbooks is the general format they share. The size is convenient, they feel nice, and you get a lot of information packed into a neat little package. In this case there are instructions for making an outdoor bread oven, a few recipes for left over bread (the summer pudding is excellent) and things to put on it (nettle pesto, beetroot houmous), and of course there are a lot of bread recipes.

The basic loaf is fool proof - thanks to the very good instructions that explain not only what you do to make a successful loaf, but also why you do it - which I always like to know. Just recently though I've discovered a love of English Muffins - it's taken me a while, I'm not sure why it's taken me all these years to discover them but it has, still now I've discovered them there's no holding back. I had looked up Dan Lepard's recipe but good as it sounds it's also quite a long winded take on the humble muffin. Daniel Stevens version here is rather simpler, relatively quick to make (nothing with yeast is quite instant) and absolutely delicious. The recipe is here.

Other holiday highlights included a couple of visits to the excellent Mainstreet Trading Company, it's a

combination of bookshop, cafe, home ware stuff, and now a deli. The bookshop part is one of those fantastic independent stores which manage to cram all sorts of good things into quite a small space without feeling in the least bit crowded. The cafe is very nice as is the deli and all the other bits. It's a great example of how this kind of thing should be done - every time I've been there it's been busy and is over all far more than the sum of it's parts. There was also plenty of time for reading, as well as just sitting enjoying the scenery (whilst drinking champagne and eating scones) so basically the perfect getaway. 

Herbs - Nikki Duffy

A river cottage handbook. About Herbs. By Nikki Duffy - whose 'Source It' column was my favourite thing about 'The Guardian'. That's the sort of hat trick that makes the pile of other books about herbs I've got quite irrelevant. Happily the River Cottage Handbooks always have something new to add (I've been comparing with  Jekka's Herb Cookbook). I've been a fan from the beginning of this series, it's full of unexpected joys and really excellent writing. The strength of the whole River Cottage thing is in its community approach, because whilst I'm a fan of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall it's in a mild sort of way and definitely enhanced by his ability to find really good people to collaborate with (John Wright's contributions have been my high points but they're all good).

I made grand plans after reading the veg patch and fruit books (Mark Diacono) but I only have access to my partners garden and I'm not there enough to make large schemes practical (he doesn't like to water, and last year hired a mini digger when my back was turned - both to the detriment of the roses). I might still get my way regarding a Quince tree (or possibly a damson...) but the great thing about herbs is that a) they're growable on my windowsill, b) plenty of them positively like dry and arid conditions, though probably not mini diggers, c) the results are pretty much instant, and d) the plants are generally cheap to buy - roughly the same for a plant or seeds as a packet of cut herbs which is quite satisfactory really. 

I'm a little bit evangelical about fresh herbs, they were my gateway plants into gardening, are my concession to the good life, and are useful, and beautiful, both to me and bees. I bought a myrtle last year which has spent the last few months sitting on a windowsill all but ignored (it seems happy though) reading about it made me go and crush a leaf - the smell was as good as it was unexpected. I could have looked it up elsewhere but the joy of a new book like this is in how it makes familiar and overlooked things suddenly fresh and obvious. I can't tell you how excited I am by this book. 

I can tell you that it's nicely laid out - the information is useful but concise, isn't overly preachy, feels good to hold (Bloomsbury's design team nailed it with these books) and read, and has lots of good advice with regard to both growing and using. The recipes are imaginative (white chocolate and basil truffles) but not to challenging for those who look askance at a few petals scattered in a salad - I plan to insert the thin end of the wedge into that particular prejudice by introducing lamb loin with lavender. This is a really good book.

Preserves – Pam Corbin

It’s that time of year again – the blackberries are ripe in the hedges, I’m asking my friend L about the state of her father’s plums (although I’m more interested in his damsons this time), I’m prepared to actually fight a squirrel for the chance of some nuts (I will be paying for nuts again, the squirrels always win – they’re leaner and meaner) and today I made redcurrant jelly. This is not before time; the redcurrants have been in the freezer since this time last year and will hopefully be okay. Had I known how easy redcurrant jelly is I would have made it before. Of course I say that before I’ve tried the results, but by the time I’ve written this post it should be cool enough to test – so if you’re reading this post the jelly was a success.

Checking back I see that I’ve mentioned ‘Preserves’ before but only in passing, and as I’m trying to scrape bits of jelly off it at the moment it seemed timely to write about it at more length. ‘Preserves’ was my first River Cottage Handbook (I got the first River Cottage Handbook – ‘Mushrooms’ quite a bit later and only after I realised what a tremendous writer John Wright is – but that’s another post) it set me on The Way and was all in all a bit of a revelation. It came out about three years ago when I was all but jobless and so at perfect liberty to make jam whilst trying to stay calm through domestic and culinary achievement. I had been after a book just like this for a while but had found nothing that felt quite right, picking it up was a real eureka moment.

Here was a book that laid out everything I wanted to know clearly and explicitly. Every stage documented, emphasis on all the really important principles, a reassuringly stern note regarding sterilisation and the four ‘spoilers’, plenty of recipes to follow (as well as those principles that allow for successful improvisation). Perfect. Since then ‘Preserves’ has become a particularly well thumbed volume. It’s taught me a lot without ever letting me down and yet I’ve hardly scratched the surface when it comes to exploiting the possibilities within its covers.

Good as the television and the heftier books are I can’t help but feel that the best things to come out of the River Cottage brand are these books. There’s a house style but each one also has a distinctive voice. Every time I pick up ‘Preserves’ I get a shadow of that first eureka moment and that rare feeling of thinking this book will never be bettered (not in my eyes anyway).

And as redcurrants are around and frequently on some sort of offer at the moment, and as redcurrant jelly is my go to secret ingredient for making things wonderful with (it’s getting late I might be getting overtired and carried away now) here’s how it’s made...

I improvised a jelly bag from some muslin and an old embroidery hoop (why this was to hand do not know because I don’t really sew, but I was very pleased with my ingenuity) and then threw a kilo of redcurrants into a pan stalks and all with 400ml of water where they simmered away for about 45 minutes until the whole lot was just one big soft pulpy mass in a bath of glorious ruby juice with the power to stain everything it touched. That all got tipped into the jelly bag with a nice big bowl underneath so the juices could filter through undisturbed overnight, which left lots of time to sterilise some jars before this morning when it was measured back into a pan and bought to a simmer at which point 450g of sugar was added for every 600ml of water (in my case 800ml’s of fluid and so 600g of sugar which seems to have worked just as it should). After that bring it all back to a rolling boil and after about 8 minutes check to see if setting point has been reached. When it does that wrinkly thing on a cold saucer and any scum has been skimmed off the top it’s ready to go into the warm sterile jars and that’s it, job done.

Summer Pudding

Inspired by my sister and the river cottage ‘Fruit’ book in almost equal measure (but sister’s summer pudding was quite remarkable so she’s just got the edge on inspiration). Along with Bread and Butter pudding (first tried when I was about 5 and then shunned for the next 20 years until an eventual rediscovery lead to an ongoing love affair) Summer Pudding was one of the huge disappointments of child hood. How could something that looked so invitingly pink and gorgeous turn out to be bread (bread mark you and not cake – which is just wrong when you’re 5) and fruit, tart fruit. It took me a long time to get over that first experience, but now, some 30 years later I’m ready to move on.

 In my mind (and I’m sharing this thought at the risk of sounding odd) Summer Pudding is a decidedly upper class sort of dessert. I was subjected to it in a distinctly county setting, and if you don’t happen to work somewhere that gives you cheap access to fruit (me) or have a lovely big garden awash with redcurrants and raspberries (other lucky people) the ingredients aren’t always cheap.  Also although I’ve come to love things with a tart fruity edge there’s something of the pleasure/pain principle about summer pudding that puts me in mind of game (I’ve not yet learnt to like it ‘high’ and am not terribly keen to cultivate the taste) and living in cold draughty houses with inadequate supplies of hot water, and scratchy woollen blankets on the beds (also leaky hot water bottles). I’ve known rich people and posh people, but sadly for the latter the two have never really coincided.

The final thing about Summer Pudding is that you have to think ahead to make it – it wants to hang around in the fridge for 24 hours and I rarely plan like that, make in the morning eat in the evening is fine, but a day or two ahead; I really had to think about it. On the plus side the fruit compote is brilliant, takes minutes to throw together and would be great with any number of things.

Anyway gather together about 850g of mixed red and black fruit (blackberries, raspberries, redcurrants, blackcurrants, maybe a blueberry or a strawberry ...) 200g of caster sugar, and enough white bread with the crusts chopped off to line a pudding bowl (that will hold roughly 850ml of liquid) leaving no gaps. Line the bowl with clingfilm – using enough to have plenty hanging over the sides of the bowl to cover the base, and line with the bread. No gaps. Gently heat the fruit and sugar until the sugar dissolves and the juices start to run, but not until it’s all one mushy mess. Drain off a cup of the juice to serve with the pudding, and put the rest of the fruit in the bowl. Cover up with clingfilm and a plate and stick it in the fridge with a heavy weight on top to keep everything in place. The next day it’ll be ready and delicious. Some people use cassis which is something I need to investigate.      

Cakes – Pam Corbin

This is the latest river cottage handbook and today it’s had a proper outing from the shelf. I’ve been stuck indoors waiting for a courier to deliver my new passport (photo marginally less hideous than the last one which is quite exciting) and to make being housebound on that British rarity, a sunny day off, I thought baking might be in order. (I should have done housework and could have read but baking and looking for stuff on the internet has been more appealing.)

I wasn’t sure how much I needed this book but wanted it (so was very pleased when Bloomsbury let me have a copy rendering it entirely guilt free). I already have enough baking related material to see me through any conceivable situation or occasion but I do like these handbooks and for the past few months ‘River Cottage Everyday’ has been the source for a fair bit of excellent cake, more of the same sort of thing can’t be a bad idea.

A couple of weeks ago I really wanted rock cakes only to find that I didn’t have a recipe in any of the many books to hand which shocked me a bit, perhaps the assumption is that people just know how to make them and judging by the tweeted and facebooked instructions I got the moment I started complaining about this lack in my life most people I know do know. Anyway ‘Cakes’ has a rock cake recipe in it so that’s a mark in its favour already. In fact it’s an excellent book for the basics and something that I find interesting is that everything actually looks homemade with all the minor imperfections that implies, after Fiona Cairns and Annie Rigg this is actually quite a relief. Don’t get me wrong, Corbin’s cakes look brilliant it’s just that she makes it look easy and uncomplicated (although this is slightly deceptive.)

The cake I’ve wanted to make since I first saw it is the toffee apple cake which I tried today, (The caramel topping refered to is one tin of boiled condensed milk, but you can buy it pre made now which saves hours and electricity) I won’t show you a picture because it transpires that flipping a delicate cake covered in squidgy caramelised apples onto a toffee topped equally apple-y base is really flipping difficult to do without sending toffee spread everywhere and cracking the top of the cake. No prizes for guessing what happened to me, my cake tins were also possibly a bit shallow so the cake developed a muffin top. It’s a delicious cake but the way I made it, it isn’t a pretty cake. (The apples for the base are coated in brown sugar and are amazing but the dulce de leche filling was too much for me. I’m making this again but as a plain apple cake, or possibly the marmalade variation that Corbin gives.)

I’m not sure how many more River Cottage handbooks are in the pipeline, I know one on fruit is coming later this year and I’m hopeful for a Game related one in the future, cheese making would be fun too (I have no idea how practical home cheese making is but I’d love to give it a go). The more I see of them the more I like them and the more indispensable they seem, several titles have gone away with me as holiday reading before, and ‘Cakes’ will be just the thing to take with me the next time I head to the Borders (or any other self catering destination). It would also have been a brilliant book to have had at university when I finally got a flat with more than a toaster in the kitchen. Big glossy cookbooks are fine but it’s nice to have something you can throw in a pocket or bag to browse through at odd moments (It can’t just be me who likes to read cook books like this.) it’s also good to have a book that really looks like it’s meant to be used and won’t object to getting a bit dirty, ‘Cakes’ is also a worthy stable mate for ‘Preserves’ (where my River Cottage handbook obsession began) and I can’t think of any higher praise for it.

Nigella v Hugh

Thursday night whilst I was settling in front of the television for an hour or so of thinking about getting round to the ironing I was disturbed by a text message asking if I too though the background music on ‘Nigella’s Kitchen’ was to reminiscent of a porn film. I wasn’t qualified to answer because a) I don’t watch porn – unless you count Nigella, but as I understand it licking your fingers whilst wearing a cardigan is pretty innocent behaviour, and b) I was watching ‘River Cottage Everyday’ at the time.

Thanks to channel 4’s helpful habit of repeating everything an hour later, and BBC iPlayer this isn’t such a problem – but really why on earth schedule my two favourite cooks against each other? Momentary irritation was soon forgotten listening to the lovely Hugh Fernley-Whittingstall wax lyrical about the joys of mussels but it’s all come back to me today.

Sunday (as you might well have noticed) is my day for cleaning the kitchen before turning it back into a bombsite post bake, considering housework before escaping to mooch around John Lewis and Waterstone’s, and realising that I’ve not done anything really useful and it’s time for bed again. After years of practice I’ve got it down to a fine art but today’s rain is making the walk into town really unattractive and looking for inspiration in the kitchen has ended up in a replay of the Hugh v Nigella dilemma.

It normally does come down to one or other of these two. I love Nigella’s what the hell add more butter attitude – perfect for a Sunday afternoon treat (and Monday evening, Tuesday lunch, Wednesday breakfast...) I like how easy she makes things too, but then Hugh – well he has a twinkle in his eye as well, and theoretically his small holding ethos is nearer to my heart. Realistically Nigella’s brand of chocolate covered domestic goddessery often wins out over wholemeal goodness, but then I like the get your hands properly dirty attitude that comes with river cottage. Choices, choices – because after all Hugh seems to like chocolate too, and Nigella isn’t all double cream; the truth is that my ideal lifestyle would be some sort of unholy combination of the two.

Today river cottage won out and I made Chelsea bus from Handbook number 3 ‘Bread’ (by Daniel Stevens) which by the by is another thing I really like about both outfits. Nigella (with her collection of 4000, count ‘em 4000 cookbooks!) frequently credits other cooks with influences coming from all over, and possibly my favourite thing about the River Cottage books are the handbooks. A whole community of people all adding fresh voices and ideas to the brand. ‘Bread’ is another one I’ve taken away for holiday reading and I can testify to the quality of the buns I made today, and the basic bread recipe I’ve made almost enough times to graduate onto something more complicated.

The Blonde and I have a plan to spend a Sunday making bagels – for me this means spending some serious time comparing and contrasting different recipes and if there are any major variations between them we plan to take one each and see what happens, and unless they’re absolutely the same chances are it’ll be Nigella’s on the one hand and Mr Stevens on the other...

Buying into the dream

I saw swallows yesterday, and the Scottish one disappeared for quite a long time to look at pictures of boats on the internet – both sure signs of approaching summer and a combined desire on our parts to head north till we hit the coast. For my part I’d stay on the coast and admire the view, possibly paddle if it wasn’t too cold, but would venture onto the water for an hour or two if offered the chance of a bit of fishing and a beer. My Scottish friend would be gone until forced (possibly by pirates) to come back, but he wouldn’t say no to a freshly caught and cooked mackerel either so we’re both quite excited by the latest River Cottage handbook – Sea Fishing.

My idea of a successful fishing trip has hitherto had more to do with getting back to land before the beer takes effect than focusing on an actual number of fish caught. Fortunately these sort of adventures normally take place with my father who gets impatient if nothing bites – it ensures a shortish but very pleasant time. Now all that might be about to change.

There are so many things I love about the River Cottage handbooks; they look great, they’re nice to handle, they fit in a pocket, they make for excellent reading (as well as being informative), and of course there’s recipe’s. Best of all they offer a window into the sort of AGA powered, Barbour wrapped idyll that seems so desirable when on a two week summer visit to the Shetlands or a cosy winter visit to the Borders. I will own up to the fact that I took the bread handbook with me on one Borders trip as light holiday reading – access to aforementioned AGA was too good a chance to miss. And yes my friends did mock me, but they also ate the bread with every sign of enjoyment.

It’s nice to daydream; wonderful to imagine a life and job which allowed the time for plenty of baking, jam making, foraging and fishing, but if that was all these books had to offer I wouldn’t be especially tempted. After all who wants to be reminded of the lifestyle they don’t have for 48 weeks of the year? What makes the format work so well (apart from engaging writing) is the mix of practical advice about how to do a thing – like fishing – and what to do with the fish later. I probably won’t be catching a squid anytime soon (ever) but I can purchase a squid...

I particularly like the gutting and filleting section (honestly it is safe to sit next to me on a bus, it really is) the pictures, which are photos (always a good thing), take you through each step in a way that makes it all look eminently do-able. It’s certainly encouraging me to be more adventurous next time I’m on the fish market. ‘Sea Fishing’ also has an excellent collection of charts (who doesn’t like a good chart?), my favourite is for sea fish cooking techniques; fish down one side, techniques down another, I’m geeky enough to be considering photo copying it for the wall, so handy. I also like that it’s not to chef-y, or to specialist, it really makes me want to do the whole action woman thing from hook to pot.

So come the summer – dad I hope your reading this – hopefully a fishing moment will arise, in which case I may be slightly prepared for it, but meantime I have a book full of fish based inspiration which I can take to the market with me (which is more than I can say for the otherwise excellent Leith’s Fish Bible).

Pictures hopefully tomorrow - half an hour trying to up load and I'm off to bed.