Mister Wibble

Nigella wants me

J's a great cook, and by this I mean that she's one of those blessed with the ability to - say - combine a turnip, an onion, some tomato puree, and three types of pulse into something resembling a nutritious and tasty meal. She has never prepared anything with those exact ingredients, but you get my meaning. However; given a full fridge and larder, there are no limits to her creativity. There are constant surprises and delights. I'm a lucky boy, make no mistake. Just her soup (many and varied) will provoke expressions of undying devotion and deep sighs of satisfaction, and a simple Sunday Roast will have me promising the completion of any number of household jobs. 

 

I, on the other hand, am not historically known as a great provider of domestic cuisine. If you gave me the above ingredients to work with, you'd be forgiven for thinking that I'd spent half an hour fashioning a rather peculiar looking door-stop, or perhaps developing a new type of filler for the holes in your wood work. I'm one of those men who can't be left alone in the kitchen for five minutes, before I'm poking my head around the door and begging for help with the garlic crusher. Suffice to say; I have committed great sins in the name of cookery. We shall not mention them here, so as not to cause unnecessary pain or to provoke a sudden emetic response in you, my delicate and refined reader.

 

So, what a surprise then, that I'm enjoying a growing interest in food and cooking. J has been unwell; thus I am often to be found skinning garlic and other alliacae like a Tuscan grandfather, and handling pans and knives with a deftness and panache not seen since the glory days of the Galloping Gourmet. J is astonished. I sometimes catch her peering at me as if she can't quite comprehend this rennaisance; and is perhaps awaiting the news that I'm eloping with Nigella Lawson to reinvent the Aga and indulge in quite a lot of strawberry related food-sex. I can assure you that I've no intention of scarpering off with old dream-cakes herself, and have written to her making that point very clear. It's for the best. She'll thank me in the long run. 

Smoked Haddock Gratin - courtesy Times Online.

Smoked haddock and cream are natural playmates. Please buy undyed, line-caught fish from a sustainable source.

Serves 3-4

500g undyed smoked haddock
2 big handfuls of spinach leaves (no stalks)
225ml double cream
A good pinch of cayenne
A generous grating of nutmeg
2 tsp dijon mustard
2 tsp lemon juice
6 tbsp finely grated parmesan cheese
2 big handfuls of breadcrumbs
Black pepper
Large knob of butter

Preheat the oven to 190C/375F/Gas Mark 5. Remove the skin from the haddock. I just pull hunks of flesh off with my fingers – not elegant, but practical. The hands-on approach also lets you discard any bones, which is important if you want to avoid the Heimlich manoeuvre. Place the fish in a buttered ovenproof dish.

Bring a saucepan of water to the boil. Throw in the spinach. As soon as it starts to boil, remove from the heat and drain. Cool under the cold tap, then squeeze hard with your hands to remove the moisture. Drape the spinach over the fish.

Whisk together the cream, spices, mustard, lemon and parmesan, then pour the mixture over the fish and spinach. Scatter with the breadcrumbs, season with pepper and dot with butter. Bake in the oven for 20-25 minutes, until the fish is cooked through, the breadcrumbs are golden brown and the cream is bubbling and starting to catch around the edges. Serve with a green salad.

 

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