Hook, line and sink

WE are sailing out of the harbour, sun glistening on the water as we look back on the pretty cobbled fishing village of Staithes with its colourful, brightly painted, red pantile- topped cottages. Seagulls are soaring overhead. “It’s gorgeous,” I say, momentarily caught up in the romance of it all.

It doesn’t last long. “I wish people would stop painting their houses in those daft colours. They look ridiculous,”

barks our skipper, local fisherman Sean Baxter. “It’s not bloody Balamory.” Local restaurant owner Brian Kay shakes his head at the seagulls as they squawk overhead.

“Can’t stand them. They’re pests,”

he says.

My illusions may have been shattered, but I am soon to discover that the gritty reality of life in this fishing port – one of the top ten lobster fishing spots in the country – is actually far more romantic, wild and powerful than the superficial picture postcard view most tourists glimpse on a brief visit.

We are heading out to sea to catch fish for our supper on a Catch and Cook course run by Brian and his partner, Charlotte Willoughby. The idea is that we will hook a few dozen pollack, cod, mackerel, maybe even ling, and then head back to their Endeavour restaurant, in the heart of the village, to learn how to fillet and skin, bone, smoke, salt and brine our haul.

From the North Sea to our plate in the space of a few hours – you can’t get much fresher than that. Catch and Cook is such a simple, but ultimately brilliant, idea it’s hard to believe no one has ever done it before.

But this is the first course of its kind in the North.

Sean, who has been fishing here since he was a boy, is passionate about this rugged coastline, pointing out lines of jet in the cliffs and telling us about the fascinating geology and mining history of the area. He shows us photographs of whales just a few miles out. “There are lots in August,” he says.

Judging by the abundance of fish and increasing number of species he encounters here, he reckons the North Sea has never been so healthy.

We see kittiwakes, razorbills, guillemots and fulmars nesting in the dramatic Boulby cliffs, England’s highest. Peregrine falcons fly overhead. Puffins appear regularly too. “There are some birds breeding here for the first time,” says Sean.

At the turn of the century, there were 80 full-time fishing boats putting out from Staithes, then one of the largest fishing ports on the North Sea. Now there is only one, with a few small boats tending to lobster pots or, like Sean, taking people day fishing.

As 20mph winds lash our boat, it’s too rough to head out to Sean’s prime fishing spot, over one of the numerous fish-filled wrecks that litter this coastline. Recent storms, which have churned up the sea bed, mean it’s not the best day for fishing close to shore either, but we give it a go.

In the interests of sustainable fishing, Brian insists on using only rod and line. Everything he catches, he uses. It was the number of people he met who threw their catches away because they didn’t know what to do with them that inspired him to set up the course. “It’s such a terrible waste. We hope to help people get back in touch with their food, to show where it comes from and how they can best use it.”

Apart from one small coley, we don’t catch anything. But it doesn’t matter. It gives us the chance to visit fish wholesaler Matthew Asquith at the top of the village, where we are able to examine local catches and talk to the men who work here.

Matthew shows us an impressive array of halibut, turbot, squid, haddock, pollack and red mullet, pointing to the shining eyes and bright pink gills that indicate a good, fresh fish.

We watch Andrew, who has been filleting fish since he was 14, working his way at amazing speed through a large tank of cod and visit next door’s lobster pool, which is crawling with this local delicacy, some bred here, some plucked fresh from the sea.

Back at the 200-year-old Endeavour restaurant, where we are staying in a charming attic room with rooftop views over the harbour, we get to work. Brian, a former awardwinning TV producer, and Charlotte, a psychotherapist, had no experience of catering when they took on the restaurant.

It was over a few plates of oysters and bottles of wine in an oyster bar in New York eight years ago that they decided to take the plunge. “We thought, ‘We could do this’. And we still thought that, even after we’d sobered up,” says Brian.

Many of their family and friends thought they were mad. But, after just 18 months, they were receiving rave reviews in the national press and could barely cope with the demand for bookings. A number of national awards, including being named one of the top three places for seafood in UK by the Sunday Times, are testimony to their extraordinary success.

As enthusiastic amateurs, they had to learn fast and on the job.

There are lots of cookery books – from Rick Stein to Gordon Ramsay – on their kitchen shelves. They also picked up much from eating out at good restaurants. Most of all, they just got stuck in, learning as they went along, which is probably what makes them such patient teachers.

When they made the bold decision to shrink the restaurant to one, small intimate dining room with just 16 covers, one regular customer, playwright Sir Alan Ayckbourn, said it was the first business he encountered which downsized rather than expanded when it hit success.

But they are always fully booked and in total control of their food, and that is how they want it.

Brian catches about 20 per cent of the fish on the menu and treats it with respect. “You use all your senses – smell, taste, touch,” he says as he handles with love and care the cod and haddock we are about to fillet, skin and bone. It’s better, Brian explains, to do this yourself as all the evidence of how good it may be – the eyes, the gills, the scales – have vanished when it’s ready-prepared.

IPICK up lots of tips, such as coating my fingers and the fish with salt to keep it steady on the board while I wield the sharp filleting knife. And I discover that fish isn’t always best just fresh. Some, such as cod, is best left a few days in the fridge.

I enjoy gutting, cleaning and cutting up the exotic-looking local squid, and we learn the secret of opening oysters – wrap them in a wet tea towel before pushing and twisting the oyster knife in just the right spot. Charlotte served ours with smoked salmon in a lemon and soy sauce and it tasted of the sea.

We all work on our final meal – deep fried squid with dipping sauce, salted cod mousse and mackerel pate and a delicate tasting pollack, which Brian caught the day before, topped with olives, tomatoes and capers.

Sensitively handled and cooked with a light touch, it’s the sort of mouthwatering food diners will pay a lot for. It’s not cheap, but then good fish shouldn’t be.

From turbot and crab to shark, wolf fish, lobster and monkfish, Charlotte and Brian make the most of the astonishing diversity on their doorstep and have served more than 35 species of local fish over the years.

It does make you wonder why, as an island nation, we usually restrict ourselves to cod or haddock, deep fried in thick batter.

We had brought cool boxes to bring some of our catch home. Sadly, they remain empty. But, thanks to what we have learnt, we have returned with something much more valuable.

I might be tempted to compare what Brian is doing for Staithes with what Rick Stein did for Padstow, but when he was asked to do some television work recently, he sent the crew to another chef in Whitby.

“I’m just not interested,” he says, much too busy simply cooking good fish well.

■ Two-day residential Catch and Cook Courses cost between £605 and £620 per couple, including boat fees, two days’ tuition, three nights’ accommodation, breakfasts, and a three-course dinner each evening.

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