The Hidden Hut: Irresistible Recipes from Cornwall’s Best-kept Secret. Simon Stallard

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СКАЧАТЬ lease was signed and our journey had begun.

      But it wasn’t all plain sailing. I remember the February morning I picked up the keys and trekked over the cliffs to take a proper look at our new venture. The mud track that was meant for deliveries had been eroded into a stream, leaving the place only accessible by foot, and in wellies at that. As I tried to work out which key went where, I realised the locks had frozen tight in the salty air, so I had to break in through the hatches. Huge spiders the size of my hand scuttled away as I clambered over the counter into the dusty, derelict shed. The view from it was breathtaking and there was so much potential, but Porthcurnick Beach was no Padstow or St Ives. This was remote, deepest, undiscovered Cornwall. There was not a soul to be seen as far as the eye could see. What on earth had we taken on?

      It took ten long weeks of hard graft to renovate the hut. Being in such an unspoilt, natural setting, we couldn’t add anything of any permanence. We built an outdoor kitchen that could be dismantled and removed at the end of each season and installed long tables in the sand made from a fallen tree. What seemed like an impossible feat only added to the magic of it. We were finally ready to open.

      To create the daily menu, I struck up deals with local fishermen, farmers and growers. Having worked at the local fish markets, I knew what to buy, and when. If they had a huge glut of, say, mackerel, we would take a load at a good price and set up a couple of grills on the clifftop. We’d put a blackboard up on the road and a post on Facebook, and just hope enough people would see it and drop by. It was simple but it worked well. We would always be busy on those days and I loved people’s enthusiasm for this type of offering. But it soon became apparent it wasn’t sustainable. It wasn’t long before too many people would turn up hoping for the blackboard menu and we couldn’t feed them all. There was nothing worse than people trekking over only for them to leave hungry. We needed to adapt our tactics.

      We decided to move these events to the evenings when the coast was quieter and, because we didn’t have a phone line, we sold tickets online as the method of booking. They became known as ‘feast nights’ and they were the offering I had been dreaming about all these years. We cooked one dish over a wood fire, showcasing just a few key ingredients delivered direct from the fields and boats. Anything from slow-roasted lamb to huge steaming pans of seafood paella over fire pits. There was no choice and all the food was served at once, straight from the grill; but it was the freshest food you could wish for. All the usual dining luxuries such as waiter service, wine menus, even plates and cutlery, were pared down — we just provided the food and setting, and let people make the nights their own. As only one dish was cooked per evening, we had a calendar rather than a menu; it certainly wasn’t a normal way of running a restaurant service, but it felt right for this place.

      © Sally Mitchell

      Eight years and 64 firewood deliveries later, we have created something I am so proud to be a part of. The shed became the Hidden Hut and our feast nights the fastest-selling ticketed food events in the UK. Despite no formal advertising — not even a signpost on the footpath — people stumbled across us and shared their discoveries by word of mouth. It wasn’t long before it took off on social media and then the mainstream media were spreading our story, too.

      © Sally Mitchell

      © Sally Mitchell

      Today, the Hidden Hut has become a food destination in its own right. It’s been filmed for ITV and the BBC and has been featured in almost every major publication from Vogue and Bon Appétit to the Observer in its Top 40 Best Restaurants. It’s developed its own coastal community. If you’ve picked up this book, it’s likely you’ve already come across us and are part of the story. If you’re new to us, then welcome! We are lucky that those who have sought us out over the years have tended to share our values and appreciate the simple, windswept pleasures our hut offers. This book of recipes is our way of saying of thank you.

1

       Dawn

      Cornwall enjoys the latest sunrise in the country. Dawn happens ‘dreckly’ here and that always feels quite appropriate.

      For me, the ritual of cooking breakfast is about stopping and taking time, whether that’s for a family sit-down or some solitude with the morning papers. It’s not something most of us are able to do every day. It’s more of a weekend/day-off affair. This chapter is for those mornings. A collection of long, laid-back breakfasts and brunches. It’s all about picking great produce, putting on the coffee and getting into the holiday vibe.

      DOUGHNUTS AT DAWN

      Small, freshly cooked doughnuts are great with a coffee. The batter gives you 20–25 golf-ball-sized doughnuts, so they are perfect for sharing. They are moreish, though — so they won’t hang around for long. You could add some ground cinnamon to the sugar for dusting the doughnuts, if you liked.

      Makes 20–25

      1 vanilla pod

      300ml whole milk, lukewarm (see Yeast Tip)

      50g unsalted butter, melted and cooled to lukewarm

      7g sachet active dried yeast

      75g caster sugar, plus extra for coating

      3 large eggs, lightly beaten

      400g plain flour

      1 tsp fine sea salt

      sunflower oil, for deep-frying

      Cut the vanilla pod in half lengthways and scrape out the seeds onto a plate. Pour the milk into a jug and add the butter, yeast, 1 teaspoon of the sugar and the vanilla seeds to create a vanilla-flavoured, yeasted milk. Stir well and leave for 5 minutes so that the yeast is activated. Beat in the eggs.

      In a large mixing bowl, sift in 300g of the flour, the remaining sugar and the salt. Make a well in the centre and stir in the warm yeasted milk to create a lump-free batter. Cover the bowl with a clean tea towel or cling film and leave the batter to rise in a warm place for 1½ hours or until doubled in size.

      Fill a deep-fryer or a large heavy-based saucepan one-third full with oil and heat it to 170°C (test by frying a small cube of bread; it should brown in 40 seconds). Using two soup spoons, spoon the wet batter into balls and gently drop them into the oil. Cook for 3 minutes, watching carefully and rolling them in the oil so that they brown evenly all over. Cook the doughnuts in batches of 4–5 so that you don’t overfill the pan and cool the oil down too much.

      Once they are done, remove them from the oil using a slotted spoon. To check that they are ready, cut one in half to make sure the dough is cooked through and not wet in the middle. Drain on a kitchen paper-lined plate, then dust with sugar and eat while they are still warm.

Yeast СКАЧАТЬ