Prowse Mat - The Seahorse : the restaurant and its recipes

To life

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

T he Seahorse is perfect. When it first opened my dinner there was the best meal I ate in 2009, and it remains in my top ten of all time.

In the golden light of our table, in the chocolaty bustle of what felt like the best restaurant in a small town in Brittany, we were given very good olives and smoked cod roe to accompany the cocktail of the day, which was white port and tonic. Then we had a scallop each, blasted in Mitchs astonishing 400C charcoal oven to a buttery beauty with the faint aniseed tang of tarragon. Then we had unbelievable local mussels, tiny and sweet, some cuttlefish in red wine, tripes Florentine, and gorgeous, juicy chicken livers threaded on skewers and grilled over a wood fire. We drank a Picpoul with those, and an Albario, and then a bottle of Tonnix the excellent white wine Mitch makes with Mark Hix (the clue is in the name).

Then fish. Unbelievable fish. There was a large monkfish tail which, in the white heat of Mitchs furnace, had been rendered unlike any other monkfish I have eaten, the water having been blazed out of it with such fury that there was none of the bounciness and chew that gives it the name of poor mans lobster. It had not curled and had developed no shine. It was complex and flesh-like, as rich as halibut or sole, but more relaxed, earthier.

The squid was even better. We shared two large ones, fresh from the bay, blasted again in the fiery forge, full of smoky flavours and the depths of the sea, lifted with chilli and citrus. And then there was also a perfect sole meunire. With these we had fried courgettes and cima di rape, and then rice pudding, exemplary tiramisu and a couple of brilliant scroppinos, which are a sort of cold posset. And to finish, terrific coffee, which makes all the difference.

By the time we staggered off, around eleven, things were just beginning to kick off: a chef or waiter was about to sing, and I thought I heard the word accordion. Its really not what you expect in a small restaurant by the English seaside, but nothing about The Seahorse is.

Giles Coren

INTRODUCTION

I had been visiting Dartmouth since I was a boy as its a place that draws you in with its incredible sense of warmth and magic. I recall a family lunch at a restaurant called Taylors where I remember thinking that I would one day like to have a restaurant here. I was neither a restaurateur, waiter nor chef at the time and my thinking was purely dreaming, but I imagined the life of running a restaurant was a good way to live. I often wonder whether that dream, although buried for many years, somehow directed my life into the world of restaurants and what I do today.

In 1998 I opened my first restaurant in Bath. I had no previous experience except a love of food and the joy of gathering friends and family together around the table. It was through cooking at the restaurant that I met Mat, who was the head chef at Baths then finest restaurant, The Olive Tree, working under the guidance of Stephen Ross, a highly respected chef and hotelier. Mat was classically trained and I was young and bursting with enthusiasm and food ideas; I loved it. You couldnt have found two chefs so different. We became very good friends and Mat asked me over a beer one day if he could work with me that was the start of our journey together as chefs and best friends.

My first small restaurant grew to 13 with 10 in London, so Mat and I lived two lives, one at home and the other in the restaurants or in the car, often sleeping where we worked. We shared a real understanding of each other and the restaurants achieved many awards through the dedication of the wonderful team of people that ran them. We travelled around Europe when we could for inspiration and found that the simplest of plates brought us the most pleasure fried crabs in Venice, grilled squid in Barcelona and white beans and rosemary cooked until just soft and creamy and seasoned with thick green olive oil. It was these simple but stunning plates of food and the sense of occasion we loved the most, as well as the joy of just capturing an ingredient at its best and allowing old recipes to be themselves without intrusion from the modern hand. We felt that we had discovered something new every time. Of course, we hadnt, we were just experiencing dishes and ingredients in the way that they have always been cooked and prepared. It was bringing to life the writing of my favourite authors, such as Hazan, Artusi and Andrews. This sort of food was our kind of food; food that respected the use of ingredients at their best where flavour is the hallmark of ripeness. We learned that many ingredients and dishes should be left just as they are, as well as the skill in capturing the peak moment in different ingredients, whether it was fish or vegetables, before they fade. It was all about understanding original flavours and then perfecting the execution. For example, eating risotto and the deep rich flavours of cacciucco (Italian fish stew) taught us how to make these dishes, as the experience and our memory for tastes were our guide. One day in our local bar, while in the midst of expansion, we started thinking over a beer, One day lets cook fish over a fire by the sea, and cook the food we like to eat. We nodded to a dream that we didnt think about again until 2006. By then, my business had changed; people who had supported me and been by my side throughout that journey had left. The company had got too big and it wasnt what I wanted it to be; I could feel change fast approaching. I opened an email one morning and there it was: Pizza restaurant for sale, Dartmouth. I remembered with a smile my earlier dream in life and deleted it, but for two weeks after I couldnt stop thinking about it.

That was the birth of The Seahorse. One of my oldest friends Mark Ely and his wife Sasha were living in Dartmouth. Mark is a charismatic man and a brilliant musician. Hes a people person with a warm personality, and a perfect matre dhtel. Even better, he has a natural love of food so I asked him if he wanted to be involved with the new restaurant and run the front of house. He did. I called Mat and asked him to come down and within a few weeks he had relocated his family to Devon and our long-time dream was born.

We have the best fish in the world landed outside our front door so seafood was to be the heart of what we did. We loved the open fires of Northern Spain and Italy where we had enjoyed the flavours that the fire brings to seafood and decided that we would cook over an open charcoal fire, too. We pushed ahead and in the tiny space we created a kitchen that worked for us with the fire at the heart of it. In the dining room we werent swayed by current design trends; this was going to be a timeless room for eating in, a place that gives you a natural welcome all of its own, a place where people would gather to share food long after we were gone. So the seats needed to be comfortable and sprung, the walls neutral and the lighting glowing not white. The space was small so all the furniture had to be handmade in walnut so it would age well and be practical to carve fish and serve bread and antipasti from. Our office was a cupboard, the gap between us and next door was our wood and charcoal store and linen was stored behind a removable banquette. Ideally, we wanted more space for guests and storage but the restaurant was small so that was that!