Kippers and other Cured Fish

Over the centuries we have developed various ways of curing and keeping the herring, that splendid northern fish which Shakespeare's contemporary Thomas Nashe — loyal to his East Anglia — grandly and comically called the 'Semper Augustus of the sea's finny freholders'. Our best and longest known forms are the red herring, the bloater, and the kipper — in that order of seniority.

Yarmouth, the great herring centre since the Middle Ages, founded its wealth first of all on the long-keeping, long-cured red herring. Smoked after days in brine, until very red and fairly dry, this was the ultra-strong-flavoured herring which we used to eat especially in Lent. Red herring is worth trying as an hors d'œuvre. The trouble is to get hold of one — even in Yarmouth, which has produced red herrings for centuries, but now sends all or most of them abroad to the Mediterranean, Africa, the West Indies and South America.

I've tried to get red herrings from leading food departments of London stores. They thought I was being funny, but you may be lucky in finding red herrings in a Cypriot delicatessen, or in a district where West Indians do their shopping. In the end you will probably have to write to the fountain head of supply, Henry Sutton's of Great Yarmouth. The red herrings they export to the eastern Mediterranean are soaked and cut into strips and eaten as hors d'œuvre or appetiser. Sometimes they're served on dry bread, as an accompaniment to Greek bean soup. Sutton's still cure a black herring, the ultimate in hardness, almost brittle. It's much in demand in very hot difficult climates such as the West Indies, Africa and South America, because it will keep almost indefinitely without refrigeration. Black and red herrings used to be slave fodder, they still tend to go to the poorer populations of these countries.

The bloater, unsplit, soft and plump (i.e. 'bloated'— it used to be called the 'bloat herring') we seem to have been eating for some 400–500 years. It is lightly salted and lightly smoked for flavour rather than long keeping. This light style of curing has been developed in Holland; and in France, where one buys the most succulent harengs saurs or bouffis, which means precisely 'bloaters'.

Then comes the kipper, first produced — or so it is said — on the Northumbrian coast early in the nineteenth century, split, soaked in brine, and smoked on tenterhooks for 10–20 hours.

Some ordinary kippers are passable, I would agree. But if you really want to know what a kipper should taste like, luscious and bland, the surest way is to order them from kipperers at Craster (L. Robson & Sons, Craster, Alnwick, Northumberland); on Loch Fyne (Ritchie Bros, 37 Watergate, Rothesay, Bute); or on the Isle of Man (T. Moore & Sons, Mill Road, Peel). Such small kippering establishments choose the best and fattest herring at their peak (from June to October), they smoke them properly over oak fires, and they do not colour them by adding dye to the brine. One kipperer of the splendid Lock Fyne herrings told me sadly and sarcastically that the big firms are 'turning kippers all into painted ladies'.

A good kipper won't be thin and skimpy or dyed (to the colour of an old mahogany commode). It will be silvery brown. It will still be in possession of its head, tail and backbone. And, full of its own fat, it won't need to be sold with pats of butter.

The good kipper is one of this country's worthy contributions to fine food. That indifferent kippers should now dominate the fish counter strikes me as a minor national disgrace. But then we so often lack piety towards our best things.

Kippers for breakfast

Everyone has a favourite way of cooking kippers, but it's worth trying a new method sometimes, even if breakfast does not seem the right meal for experiments. There are only two rules to observe: don't overcook them, and don't add butter until they are served, as good kippers cook in their own juice.

Jugged kippers are my favourite for breakfast. Put them, head down, into a 2–3 pint stoneware jug. Pour boiling water on to them straight from the kettle (as if you were making tea), right up to their tails. Leave in a warm place for 5–10 minutes, drain well and serve. They can be laid in a roasting tin, instead of a jug, but this is dangerous as the boiling water slops about if one makes a careless, half-awake movement.

Baked kippers. Wrap them loosely in kitchen foil. Bake for 10–15 minutes in a moderately hot oven. This saves washing up.

Grilled kippers. (1) Place the kippers skin side up on a piece of foil on the grill rack. Grill gently for 5 minutes until the skin is deliciously crisp, not charred. (2) Jug the kippers for 2 minutes, then grill for 2 minutes on each side.

Fried kippers. Grease the frying pan lightly with butter, just enough to prevent the kippers sticking and no more (unnecessary with a nonstick pan). Fry gently for 2–3 minutes on each side.

Whether grilled, fried, baked or jugged, eat the kippers with plenty of bread and butter. Lemon quarters, pats of butter or parsley butter can be served as well.

Kippers with scrambled egg (for 4)

A good dish for late Sunday breakfasts that merge into lunch. Try it too as an hors d'œuvre, or in sandwiches. The kippers can be cooked or not, as you please. The main thing to notice is the use of garlic — Escoffier's idea — which enhances the flavour of the eggs without stridency.

The best garlic to use is the fat, white, juicy kind imported from France.

2 kippers
6 eggs
3 oz butter
large clove garlic
salt, pepper
buttered toast

Divide the cooked or uncooked kippers into large flakes, or strips. Beat the eggs for five minutes with a fork stuck firmly into the clove of garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Melt the butter in a thick pan over a low heat, pour in the eggs through a strainer and cook as slowly as possible, stirring from time to time. When the eggs are beginning to solidify, but are still fairly liquid, add the kipper pieces. Don't overcook. Serve on buttered toast.

If this dish is to be served as a cold hors d'œuvre, it's best to scramble the eggs on their own, and lay strips of kipper across them just before serving.

Craster Kippers (for 4)

Craster is a grey stone fishing village tucked down on the Northumbrian coast, half a mile below its handsome entry arch. In the small harbour are cobles used for lobster, crab and salmon fishing, brightly painted in...