
Chef Thomas
A Proper Ploughman's Board
A board of good cheddar, thick ham, proper pickle, hard-boiled eggs, and crusty bread. Not cooking so much as assembling with conviction, and one of the finest lunches the English kitchen has ever produced.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Hot-smoked mackerel mashed with cream cheese, horseradish, and lemon into a rough pâté that takes five minutes and asks for nothing but good toast and someone to share it with.
The mackerel at the fishmonger's on Saturday had that deep, burnished gold that good hot-smoked fish gets, the kind that flakes apart under your thumb and fills the kitchen with woodsmoke the moment you open the paper. I bought two fillets without a plan, which is often how the best things start.
This is barely a recipe. It's five minutes with a fork and a bowl, and it gives back more than it asks for. The cream cheese rounds out the smoke, the horseradish lifts it with a slow, clear heat, and the lemon keeps everything honest. What you end up with is a pâté that tastes like you spent an hour on it, though you didn't, and wouldn't need to. We're only making dinner.
I keep coming back to this on evenings when the fridge is thin and the appetite is there but the energy isn't. A pot of this, some toast done properly, a few cornichons if you've got them. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: mackerel, horseradish, Tuesday, rain. It hasn't changed since. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, but some conversations don't need revising.
Quantity
250g
skin removed
Quantity
150g
Quantity
1-2 tablespoons
Quantity
half
juiced
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
small bunch
finely snipped
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| hot-smoked mackerel filletsskin removed | 250g |
| full-fat cream cheese | 150g |
| hot horseradish sauce | 1-2 tablespoons |
| lemonjuiced | half |
| black pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| chives (optional)finely snipped | small bunch |
| good toast or crackers | to serve |
Peel the skin from the mackerel fillets and break the flesh into rough chunks in a bowl. Run your fingers through it as you go, feeling for any small bones. There won't be many, but find them now rather than later. The fish should smell deeply smoky and saline, like a harbour on a cold morning. If it doesn't smell of much, it won't taste of much, and you've bought the wrong mackerel.
Add the cream cheese, a tablespoon of horseradish, and the lemon juice. Mash it together with a fork, working it until the pâté comes together but still has texture. You're not making baby food. Some flakes of fish should remain visible, catching against the smooth cream cheese. This is the difference between a pâté with character and one without. If you prefer it smoother, a few pulses in a food processor will get you there, but stop before it turns into paste.
Grind in some black pepper. Taste it. The smoke from the mackerel should come first, then the sharp heat of the horseradish rising behind it, then the lemon pulling everything bright. If the horseradish is too quiet, add more. You want it to announce itself, a slow warmth at the back of the throat that makes you reach for the next piece of toast. Season and taste. Then taste again. You probably won't need salt. The mackerel brings its own.
Scrape the pâté into a bowl or pot, scatter the chives over the top, and serve with toast that has been properly made: thick slices of decent bread, toasted until firm and golden, not pale supermarket stuff warmed through and forgotten. The toast needs to hold the weight of the pâté without bending. A few lemon wedges on the side, for those who want more sharpness. That's dinner, or the start of one.
1 serving (about 115g)
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