Since this is my first piece for The Weekend Sun I thought I should introduce myself and explain what food is to me. After all, what you choose to eat is the single most important decision that you make every day and should be taken seriously – that said it should be a fun and exciting part of your life and it really doesn't have to be hard.
Food and cooking is a journey, not just through time and geography but a personal journey through your life's experiences. For me that started as a small child learning to cook with my mother and grandmother. The simple joy of baking bread with your grandmother and tearing it open, straight out of the oven, is what life-long memories are made of.
As I grew to adulthood my life was a world away from cooking, although the seeds were starting to germinate. As a very young navigating officer in the Royal Navy, I have vivid memories of the astonishing creations that were on show at the Royal Naval College for our passing out parade. The chefs fed more than 1000 people that day and the quality of their work had me staring in awe. From that classical banqueting benchmark my nautical journey took on a culinary edge as I travelled the globe, eventually washing ashore in my own restaurant on the West Coast of Scotland.
The early 1990s were probably the best time to be in fine dining in the UK. There was a culinary explosion going on with young chefs starting their own restaurants, determined to show the French that the 'rost beouf” had talent and were taking over. This was the era of the bad boy chefs like Marco Pierre White and Gordon Ramsey, where anything was possible and flavour was all we cared about. We weren't held back by the strict culinary culture that our French counterparts suffered under; we were free to experiment in whatever direction took our fancy.
This explosion of culinary art was so liberating as a young chef, the feeling we could all chase the ultimate flavour and compete with each other on talent alone. Money didn't matter anymore as we were free to find obscure answers to whatever problems loomed ahead. I remember I couldn't afford a commercial grill for the restaurant and was struggling to get a decent caramel on my brulee until I heard Marco was using plumbers' blowtorches in his kitchen. What started as a cost-saving for cash-strapped young chefs is now in every upmarket kitchen shop – and you know what, it's still cheaper than buying a grill.
This astonishing search for flavour was unending. Every single ingredient had to be the best possible with no compromises; we didn't care a rats where it came from or how it got to us, as long as its flavour was perfect. The race was on to be the first chef to bring the next big taste from some bazaar corner of the world to our clients' table, lemons had to be from the Amalfi coast, black truffles from Richerenches in France, but white truffles from Croatia instead of Italy.
Slowly young chefs mature and pretty quickly we all started to realise that true flavour was rooted in the freshness not the bizarreness of the raw ingredients. And almost by mistake we became seasonal chefs. We started planting gardens and keeping chickens, making friends with local farmers and artisans – all with the aim of being able to serve the freshest possible.
For almost all of our food there is a dilemma, the best time to eat it is straight out of the ground, field or farm. To serve strawberries still warm from the sun will always taste better than the insipid things in the refrigerator. Pretty much everything grown in or on the ground starts losing flavour and nutritional value from the very moment it's picked and continues to lose flavour for every hour it takes to get to your plate. We can do astounding things with a simple egg – but for sheer perfection take an egg so fresh you almost have to squeeze the chicken and poach it straight away.
Now, of course, we get to the growing up part of this. It finally dawned on this arrogant young chef that I wasn't being that new at all. In fact what I had come around to, albeit by the backdoor, was that all food is best when it is fresh, local and in season. Let's face it, what our grandmothers could have told us if we'd only listened. Suddenly simplicity is the perfect way to celebrate the latest seasonal arrival. Imagine picking the first peas from the garden in late spring and making a simple risotto with a big handful of them thrown in at the last minute with a squeeze of lemon juice and a twist of pepper – garden to table in minutes, with the full flavour popping in your mouth just metres from the garden patch. Sheer perfection.
In a strange way the circle is almost complete when you start to realise that not only is there a perfect time for everything we eat, but that time is also perfect for our bodies to maintain healthy balance. What's more, the way we cook changes through the seasons to compliment the food and make our annual voyage through the seasons a treat to all of our senses.
So to kick things off I've shared my seasoning mix. This is so easy and keeps really well. You can put it in a grinder if you like but I personally prefer the slightly chunky finish.
Winter seasoning
Ingredients
20ml vegetable oil
40g Flakey salt
40g course cut pepper
5g mustard seeds
5g poppy seeds
2g cumin seeds
1g dried chilli
2g coriander seeds
1g nutmeg
1g clove
2g Turmeric
1g ginger
Summer seasoning
Ingredients
20ml vegetable oil
40g Flakey salt
40g course cut pepper
5g mustard seeds
5g poppy seeds
2g celery seeds
2g fennel seeds
2g coriander seeds
1g nutmeg
1g clove
2g Turmeric
1g ginger
Both of these seasonings are basically the same, with the winter one having a bit more warming spices and the summer one a bit more cooling.
Method
Mix all of the dry ingredients in a bowl and then add oil to a frying pan and heat until very hot. Aim for the smoke point. At this point carefully pop in the seasoning mix and stir continuously. Keep heating the seasoning mix for a couple of minutes to allow flavours to combine, then tip out. Allow to cool completely before putting in an airtight container. This will keep for a couple of months in the pantry.