SALMON is a fish I don’t often think about when dreaming up recipes or looking for inspiration on the net.
I suppose it’s because it often has the unfair reputation of being ‘boring’. And it’s true that it’s nearly always the piscine option on mass-catering menus, partly because of the value for money, and, secretly, because chefs know that it can withstand a bit of rough treatment and sit under the hot-lamps for a bit longer than, say, a fillet of delicate sea bass.
But salmon is a wonderful fish in all it’s many variations. I love the silky texture of a slice of smoked or cured salmon, especially with a buttered slice of dark rye bread. Hot-smoked salmon (Bradan Rost) is smashing stuff, perfect with a warm new potato salad loaded with spring onions. And, for very special occasions, a whole poached fish is an absolute delight, served with that most quintessentially British accompaniment, the cucumber. Its flavour seems almost to sing of riverbank picnics, cricket teas and ‘proper’ sandwiches in the dining car on a train to the coast.
Today, we’re going to have a bash at combining our salmon with some very basic, yet fiendishly effective ingredients: early-season leeks, a handful of herbs and crisp pastry. That’s right, we’re making a vol-au-vent.
The vol-au-vent is a much-maligned thing, perhaps it’s because it’s often remembered as being, well, a bit naff. It was always there, back in the 70s and 80s, on the trestle table at wedding buffets and village hall dances. A piece of pastry that, remarkably, somehow managed to be soggy and dry at the same time, filled with tinned creamed mushrooms or stuffed with suspiciously warm mayonnaise and hastily-defrosted prawns the size of babies’ fingers.
Done properly, the vol-au-vent can be a joy. Crisp, buttery, flaky pastry that holds back a rich, savoury sauce, thick with a myriad of tasty things.
The key is to make these as close to the time of eating as possible.
You can always experiment with your fillings, too.
