I have fond memories of fishing in Norway when I was a child, and I have in more recent memory hooked mackerel in Cornwall, and sitting in peace in a boat has a deep romantic appeal to me. In fact, the sitting in calm waters is what really lures me; the actual fishing part markedly less so. I am happy to be fished for, however, and was ridiculously pleased to be given a lusciously gleaming trout, of majestic dimensions, by James the fishing physiotherapist a couple of days ago. In fact he gave me two, but since my children won't eat fish, I was worried about wastage so pressed one of the trout onto a friend who'd been round for supper and turned the other one into a magnificent lunch for us.
I had some parsley and dill drooping slightly in the fridge, so I chopped them up roughly, added some lemon zest and stuffed the mixture clumsily into the fish's pink belly, not minding about spillage. I then sprinkled salt and roughly ground pepper over the fat feesh and squeezed the juice from the zested lemon over it as well, chucking the emptied-out lemon husks into the oven tray as well.
Our lunch was simple splendour: juicy roast trout with a variety of leftover vegetables foraged from various receptacles in the fridge - including, amusingly, some rainbow chard to go with our rainbow trout. So far so virtuous, and pleasurably so. Perhaps I shouldn't be mentioning our pudding of white chocolate cheesecake with blackberries….?
