They say it's what's on the inside that counts. I'm not so sure with lobster, although that is usually the kind of thing you say to an ugly child. A good, spicy, deep and rich bisque made with the ground shell and claws gets me more excited than the sweet flesh inside. And it's quite often the best thing to do with the cheaper and less wonderful ones that you may get from your backstreet fishmonger or supermarket freezer. The kind where the meat tastes and feels like it's just been ten rounds with Frank Bruno.I used one lobster to make this, but I often will have a bag of prawn carcasses in the freezer for such an occasion. Not this time though, as I've recently cleaned out the drawers, unearthing such things as a permafrozen woolly mammoth, a small choc-ice from 1984 and many, many loose peas.It's a good was to use up some of those sad looking celery stalks and the joke shop bendy carrots in the fridge drawer that have seen better days only to be left deflating behind the half lemons and sad lettuce. What nutrients they have left in them can be wrung out, along with the flavour in the lobster carcass and inner bits that remain.It's a really wonderful, powerful soup, absolutely full of flavour. I like mine with a little more of a Cayenne pepper kick than is strictly necessary. It's great with a little tarragon creme fraiche stirred through at the end and even nicer with a fat tortellini stuffed with crab meat and spring onion in the middle.One thing to be careful of when making this, is the claws are really hard work to blitz and you can easily break your blender blade, especially if you're using a stick blender, so after cooking it, try and smash them up a bit with the back of a knife into easier chunks and take your time. It's worth it.Ingredients 1 lobster shell, claws and inside bits after you've used the claw and tail meat1/2 fennel bulb, choppedA knob of ginger, chopped1 shallot, chopped1 carrot, chopped1 celery stick, chopped2tsp smoked paprikaA handful of uncooked basmati rice1tbsp ground cumin1tbsp ground coriander1 bay leaf1/2tsp ground cloves2tsp Cayenne pepper1tsp ground turmeric2tsp Swiss bouillon powderTarragon vinegar or white wine to deglaze the panA few tablespoons of double creamOlive oilSalt to seasonMethodHeat some olive oil in a deep, heavy-based pan and add the shell and vegetables. Stir well, roasting for a few minutes until things start to colour and stick a little.Deglaze the pan with the vinegar.Add the remaining ingredients, season and stir well. Cook for one minute.Cover all the ingredients with water and bring to the boil for ten minutes.Put the lid on, turn down the heat and simmer for 45 minutes-1 hourCarefully blitz until as smooth as possible, although I like mine with a little grittiness to it. I use a stick blender for this, but it's a pretty heavy duty one. The standard kitchen ones may not be able to cope. Use a food processor if necessary, and be careful.Strain the mix through a fine sieve and squeeze out as much liquid as possible.Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary. Stir in the cream, garnish with a few strips of fennel and thyme and serve.
french food
Salmon to watch over me
A small package, wrapped in a brown paper mushroom bag arrived for me from Eugene, Oregon the other week. Inside, thanks to my friend Linda Schindler, was vanilla salt. She said the people that make it promise it will change your life. Unsure whether I wanted my life to be changed, it's been on the shelf in the kitchen, winking at me since like a gateway salt. But I knew what I wanted to use it for, and just needed a little time to unleash the magic. It was either going to be cod or salmon with vanilla beurre blanc, and I chose the salmon so I could crisp and char the skin for crunch.Vanilla and fish is nothing new, The French Laundry is known for it's vanilla poached lobster. And on the island of Comoro near Madagascar, it has been a combination since the 1890s. Still, it's not that often seen on menus here in London, at least not in the kind of places I eat, which admittedly are these days more likely to be a cold shipping container in a car park on a rare date night, or our local Indian 'street food' canteen with the children. Although, how something can be called street food when you eat it inside at a table under a roof and in a room is beyond me.When summer wheezes it's way over the horizon for ten minutes this July and the barbecue is dusted off, hosed down, thrown away and a new one bought, a pan of this vanilla infused butter sauce will be on standby to pour over the grilled lobsters or langoustines. For now, I'll content myself with burning charring the salmon skin and the onions on the cast iron griddle for that smoky flavour.The first time I had fish with beurre blanc I thought I'd never eat again. And to an extent, I don't think I've had a more memorable dish since. It was like a scene in a '6os parody after smoking a jazz cigarette. Angels started gently singing and the world melted into the swirling background. How could food taste this good?We were at Brasserie des Cappucines in Paris, a large family lunch for my Great Aunt's 85th birthday. It was one of those historic meals where you even remember how amazing the loos were. And in three weeks time, we will be off again to celebrate her 100th, although God only knows where we'll be going this time, I imagine we'll be eating at the Elysée Palace or on top of the Arc de Triomphe. One is not often 100 years old.The rich sharpness of this most simple sauces suits the sweet, flaky and creamy texture of fish; it's the most elevated comfort food, so simple to make yet so luxurious seeming. In essence, it's just hot vinegar and cold butter.I used tarragon vinegar and the finely chopped stems of the onion flowers as the base for the beurre blanc, finishing it with a pinch of the vanilla to give it the extra luxury. A little cream would turn it into beurre Nantaise if you fancy a little more richness. And cooking the salmon seasoned with the most gentle of vanilla twists, the heady aromatic comes through without being overpowering. It's a little like a cuddle from Yvette Carte-Blanche in the cellar of Café Artois. But listen very carefully, I shall say this only once: salmon must be cooked medium rare.You can make your own vanilla salt by scraping the seeds into the salt and mixing it well. Chop up the pod a little and throw it in then leave, sealed for a few days to infuse. It goes equally well into caramel as it does onto salmon.Ingredients for two2 salmon fillets, about 200g eachA bunch of onion flowers (if you can't get these, use spring onion)75ml tarragon vinegar150g salted butter, cold and cubedA few good twists of vanilla saltMethodHeat a griddle pan to foundry level furnace hot and season the salmon all over with the vanilla salt and let it sit for a few minutes before cooking. This will help firm it and stop the proteins leaking out and forming unsightly white bits.Reduce the vinegar by three quarters in a saucepan with a handful of finely sliced onion stems.Slowly whisk in the butter, a little at a time until it's emulsified and smooth. Taste and season. Keep gently warm until the fish is cooked.Cook the salmon skin-side first until its crisp, then flip it over and cook for a minute or so more until slightly translucent in the middle. Leave to rest while you char the onions on the griddle.Serve the fish with the onions and beurre blanc, a final little twist of the vanilla salt accompanied with a Jerusalem artichoke gratin or purée.