Big Fish, Little Fish, Purple-Sprouting Broccoli

It's rainbow season in Glasgow.

Every year there seems to be one stretch of absolutely soul-destroying weather. The four hours of 'light' that we get in the winter is filtered through black clouds that splutter thick and freezing rain. The wind is almost strong enough to knock me over, and I am not a little girl. It makes my office building sway (very nausea inducing). I made the mistake of riding my bike home in some fierce wind a few weeks ago and discovered that a bike can act like a sail in these conditions and thrust you towards traffic and metal posts. Nasty bruises and a couple of tears ensued. Normally this weather arrives in November, but this year it waited until I got home from Christmas. Then it rained for approximately 65 day and nights. That's right. It's not even that bad in the bible.

Now, slowly, the unending deluge of January and February has broken and shattered into the chaos of March weather. It's stunning when I get out of bed these days. Beautiful clear skies and a sunny kitchen. But sometime between when my toast pops and I blowdry my hair, the clouds will settle. And then the rain comes in little bursts that like to coordinate themselves with the walk from my flat to the train (then they stop for a few minutes), only to start again once more as I trudge from the train station into work. For the next few hours the skies will do absolutely anything they fancy. Sun, rain, sleet, hail, snow, more sun (extra blinding this time) and many, many more forms of percipitation. It tries pretty hard to rain exactly when I leave work and head for the train. But there's always a new kind of weather sneaking up, and that's when we get rainbows. Loads of them. I think I've seen six in the last few weeks. Plus the flowers are out and the trees have started to blossom and all of this makes the moss growing between my toes somehow easier to bare.

You have to grab these little burst of perfect weather. And you have to have faith that no matter how unbearably grim it is presently, there's a chance it could be ok or even nice in a half an hour. Otherwise you cry. Or move to another city.

On Sunday J and I went for a stroll. We got the idea for a walk when I woke up stupidly early and started demanding toast and tea and banging on about the pretty sun and flowers outside. J decided to get me out of his flat as quickly as possible. But by this time it was raining so we punctuated our walk with dashes to bus shelters and visits to the lovely shops of Great Western Road. We browsed until the sun came out and then leisurely strolled again until the rain made us flee into a store again.

Along the way we picked up a bunch of parsley, three meyer lemons (yes, in Glasgow. It's pretty much becoming San Francisco it's so culinarily advanced) and a couple of bunches of purple-sprouting broccoli. Do you know about this stuff, North Americans? I didn't before now. This plant was the original broccoli of Europe. It grows all over Britain and the Northern and Central parts of the continent. The regular green stuff came from Italy and was exported first to France long, long ago and then to absolutely everywhere else. But this purple-sprouting stuff is still around. It has a pretty short season in from late February to the end of March and it's little buds really are purple, although they turn a dark green when cooked. The plant has many long and slender stems, a bit like rapini, but unlike most of the other members of its family, it has a very delicate and sweet and lovely flavour. Some people compare it to asparagus. I am not asparagus's number one best friend so I would say that it's better, but regardless, you can use it in many of the same settings and it tastes just as much of Spring. No weird pee thing though.

I went back to my house and thought about what to make with all of these lovely things. I would aslo have had a nap and watched some soaps had the sun not chosen that moment to break through once more. Now, if anyone needs a clear indication of how one's environment can affect their behaviour, this is it. I am the biggest devotee to napping that I know. I can easily have three in a day and still sleep well at night. Sunday naps are about as vital to me as beer, a good book and dark brown eyeliner. Crucial to survival. But as I was missing a few things for dinner, as the ever-changing weather had separated me from my bike for days, as I actually do required a bit of Vitamin D to survive, I kissed my nap goodbye and rode off to fish counter of the grocery store.

That's where I got these guys.

Some whole and gutted mackerel. It's a good time of year for them, too. You should try to buy line-caught ones, but that wasn't an option for me, unfortunately.

It rained while I was in the grocery store.

It stopped by the time I left, but my bike seat was wet. Comfy.

I now had everything I needed for a great dinner and exactly 45 minutes to get back to J's in time for the beginning of the final Crufts show (my love for dog shows is profound and inexplicable).

Dinner came together during the dog dancing component (horrifying). It was a speedy, delicious and well-timed affair.

Basically I made a rough saucy mix from:

-one whole lemon chopped really small

-A lot of chopped parsley

- A tin of anchovies, once again chopped

- And some garlic cut up real, real small (some would say chopped)

Half of this mix I stuffed into the fish bellies (once they had been washed and dried). I then stuck them in a hot oven (about 400 degrees).

Just before this, I had removed all the broccoli stalks from the tough inner stem (don't eat it!) and they were ready to be steamed). My pasta water was also ready to boil. Both of these things started to happen at the same time, and by the time the pasta was cooked and the broccoli lightly steamed, the fish was roasted. Perfect.

I threw the rest of my anchovy parsley mix in a frying pan and cooked it through quickly. The pasta went in with a bit of fresh lemon juice, and then the whole thing was piled onto plates.

I made J's look pretty just so he would say 'wow' when I put the plate down in from of him and he would once more remember that I am the best girlfriend out there.

The picture above is of my plate, and I don't need to remind myself of how great I am, so it's ugly. I also apparently don't need to attempt to remove the killer bones in my fish. Pretty gruesome, huh? (Don't look, Jess) Anyway, the hounds were being judged and I was hungry so this was the best picture possible.

The verdict of this dish: Big hit. And the giant schnauzer deserved it.

I think there's a moral to this story about grabbing opportunities and fresh vegetables while you can. And about finding silver linings and stuff. I'd love to try and find some sort of subtle and clever way to wrap this up, but unfortunately my favorite sister, my little Squirt, is coming on the train very soon and I have to go and grab her now. You can follow our adventures next week.

Comments

[Voikesop]

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[MBT Shoes]

It's so nice to have you do all of the research for us. It makes our decision making so much easier!! Thanks.

[Stina]

Thank you so much for mentioning the wierd aspergus pee. Thought it was only me..