
Chef Thomas
A Proper Bacon Sandwich
Back bacon in a hot pan, good white bread, soft salted butter. Ten minutes between waking up and the first bite of something that makes the morning make sense.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by Chef Thomas
Smoked herring grilled until the skin blisters and the butter pools in the flesh, served with toast and strong tea, the kind of breakfast that asks for nothing but your full attention.
The smell reaches you before you see them. Woodsmoke and salt and something briny that belongs to cold harbours and early mornings. A pair of kippers under a hot grill is one of the most direct pleasures the British kitchen has to offer, and one of the least appreciated.
I eat kippers on dark mornings when the heating hasn't caught up with the house. There's a fishmonger at the Saturday market who gets his from Craster, proper oak-smoked, the colour of old mahogany. I buy them when they're there and don't complain when they're not. Good kippers are worth waiting for. Bad kippers aren't worth the plate.
The recipe, if you can call it that, is barely a recipe at all. Grill them. Butter them. Eat them with brown bread and a mug of tea so strong it could hold a spoon upright. There's nothing to improve, nothing to add, nothing clever to do. The smoke has already done the work. Your job is to stay out of the way.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: kippers, butter, toast, Tuesday, rain on the window. Some meals don't need more words than that.
Quantity
2
bone-in
Quantity
a generous knob
Quantity
2-4 slices
Quantity
1
halved
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| whole kippersbone-in | 2 |
| unsalted butter | a generous knob |
| good brown bread | 2-4 slices |
| lemonhalved | 1 |
| black pepper | to taste |
Turn the grill to high and let it get properly hot. Line the grill pan with foil, not for neatness, but because kipper oil is persistent and you'll thank yourself later. Take the kippers out of the fridge ten minutes before you need them. A cold kipper under a hot grill cooks unevenly.
Lay the kippers skin-side up on the grill pan. Put them under the heat for four minutes or so, until the skin blisters and tightens. Turn them over, flesh-side up now, and dot with butter. Another three to four minutes, until the butter has melted into the fish and the flesh has turned from translucent to opaque and is pulling gently away from the bones. The kitchen will smell of smoke and the sea. That's how you know.
While the kippers finish, toast the brown bread. Not pale, not charred. Somewhere honest in the middle, with enough structure to hold butter without collapsing. Spread with more butter than you think is reasonable. This is not the morning for restraint.
Slide the kippers onto warm plates. Squeeze a little lemon over the flesh, not much, just enough to cut through the smoke. A few grinds of black pepper. The bread goes alongside. Eat with your hands if you like, pulling the flesh from the bones, pressing it onto the buttered bread. A pot of strong tea to wash it down. That's breakfast.
1 serving (about 220g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Thomas
Back bacon in a hot pan, good white bread, soft salted butter. Ten minutes between waking up and the first bite of something that makes the morning make sense.

Chef Thomas
Tinned beans warmed with butter and Worcestershire, spooned over thick toast and topped with a fried egg. The meal that half the country falls back on when the day asks nothing more of them.

Chef Thomas
Oats soaked overnight in milk and cream with grated apple and lemon, then spooned into bowls and buried under whatever the orchard and the hedgerow are offering this week.

Chef Thomas
Thick slices of black pudding fried crisp in butter, served alongside sharp apple wedges softened in the same pan. A cold-morning breakfast that smells like someone is paying attention.