In New Zealand there are strict laws concerning all game, including trout. Caught under license, game is not available on restaurant menus & the chef is allowed only the exception of cooking trout for the person who caught it & brought it in. By contrast, in Europe this is not the case.
This week's recipe is the result of a chance fishing expedition with my good friend Nico, companion through France on many missions. We'd unleashed the Morgan onto the back roads of the south/west, an area rich in history surrounding the Knights Templar & the famous medieval pilgrimage known as the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, whose several routes weaved their way through France toward Spain, & which I would soon be walking. The small towns & villages one drives through here are magnificent, the countryside truly beautiful, but a small sign caught our attention at one point & this was where the adventure began. A wooden weatherbeaten sign, the classic trout depicted leaping on a curved line, a painted arrow below, a dusty unsealed road & we were away, following the gorge winding downwards. Our dinner was at that moment swimming happily unawares, we could feel it.
Hazel & wild oak covered cliffs sheltered a green & peaceful hamlet below, two or three old stone dwellings, a river meandering. The primeval hunter within stirred as we neared the gates of what appeared to be fishing ponds. Indeed, we had entered a recreational fisherman's haven. Primarily a hatchery responsible for releasing each year, under contract, trout by the thousand into the region's rivers, the Dutch owners had added a number of pools where the casual angler (okok, I use the term loosely) could catch trout of their own (conveniently sidestepping the challenging negotiations of regular river fly fishing). Growing ever more excited we chose a rod each &, walking past a number of anglers, selected a spot by the shallows in what was curiously named 'Miracle Pool' (we were told later it would be a miracle if you couldn't catch a fish there!) With great dexterity, both Nico & I had hooked two each before too long & took our catch to be weighed & gutted.
Ingredients:
* whole fresh trout, gutted & cleaned
*sprigs of fresh tarragon, lemon sliced, red onion sliced
*sea salt & peppercorns
Method:
*set the fire & get it started, in our case a lovely big pot belly stove in the garden at La Brugue, with a swing door to allow for cooking right over the charcoal embers;
*grind the pepper & salt rub the cavity of the trout;
*taking a good 3 or 4 sprigs of tarragon, stuff the cavity, inserting slices of onion & lemon;
*if using larger fish, slash the sides in two or three cuts to allow a more even cooking, but with these baby trout, one per person, it wasn't required;
*wrap the fish, in tin foil if need be, but in such a manner that the fish is secure & the stuffing wont fall our & go everywhere. Back in La Brugue, we used a specially designed b-b-q tool that may well have been made for just this purpose;
*fish generally requires careful cooking, the flesh is delicate as are the flavours, & it is a good idea to keep an eye on your trout as it cooks. Intense heat over smouldering coals is ideal & when the trout has coloured on one side, a little blackened is ok, turn it;
*10 minutes is all ours took, we served & ate it immediately with an extra squeeze of lemon.
*the advantage of tin foil here over a wire cage is that the trout also steams in its own juices, softening the skin & flesh deliciously. For me though, the smoke & flames of a coal bbq are exactly what I'm looking for;
*to serve, fresh crusty bread, a garden salad of mixed leaf, lemon & olive oil to dress. To drink, perhaps a glass of white, but for us an ice cold Kronenburg 1664 in chilled glasses seemed a more fitting & manly choice.
(Afterwards, in the bar, we toasted the prowess of the mighty hunters we had both quite clearly demonstrated ourselves to be)
