Rainbow Trout

So it seems that I've gone from an overdose of cake on this blog to an overdose of fish. I promise this will be the last one for a while. Please bear with me! 

I've never been much good at cooking meat. I guess you could say that I am pretty much a  vegetarian. But I will happily munch my way through a roast chicken, a baby quail, lamb chops, and, very rarely, a perfect steak, if I'm not the one who's had to deal with the flesh, and as long as I know where it comes from and can be reassured that it had a happy life before it landed on my plate. A flexitarian, some may say. So when it comes to cooking a more 'decadent' meal, especially when B is around and wants more than our normal veggie fare, I find myself heading to the fishmonger. Fin and Flounder on Broadway Market is our favourite haunt. Leaves us with the excuse of picking up many other goodies that we don't really need but can't resist at the same time.

Last week it was these little rainbow trout. Actually not so little. But just small enough to be acceptable to eat one each. They looked so perfect, their pink flesh and bright scales shimmering in the lights. I didn't do much: turned the oven on, and put whatever I had in and on them (this time it was lemon, thyme, butter, garlic), and shoved them in the oven until they were done. What has come to be known in this little East London flat as 'Mary's potatoes' came with them. Boiled baby potatoes, chopped and mixed with lashings of greek yoghurt, horseradish (a lot, if you're like me), a dash of white wine vinegar, olive oil, lots and lots of dill, a couple of handfuls of capers, and of course, S and P. A winner every time. And it always puts a smile on everyone's faces: the explosion of flavours far from what's expected of the standard, British potato salad. Some crunchy leaves and a couple of toasted pine nuts for some colour, vitamins and bite. Et voilà, my kind of Sunday roast.