A whole fish, the sea in butter form, and a handful of salty greens.
Turbot lands in Newlyn most days in summer — a fish worth the fuss. Brown crab arrives sweet and tender, and samphire grows wild along the rocks. This is what happens when you stop overthinking and just let the sea do the talking. Had this years back at a mate's place in Mousehole, nothing fancy, everything perfect.
Soften 120g salted butter, fold in 150g brown crab meat gently — you want flakes, not paste. Season with a pinch of sea salt, a squeeze of lemon, and black pepper. Chill for 10 minutes while you sort the fish.
Pat your fillets or whole fish dry with paper towel. This matters — wet skin won't grill properly. Season both sides generously with sea salt and cracked pepper. Leave it on the counter for 5 minutes; cold fish from the fridge seizes up.
Get your griddle or grill pan screaming hot — you want to see smoke. Brush with olive oil. The pan should make the fish hiss the moment it hits; that's your signal you're in business.
Lay the fish on the hot grill, skin-side down if fillets, and leave it alone. Don't poke, don't flip early. Skin will crisp and release naturally after 4–5 minutes. Flip once, cook the other side for 3–4 minutes until the flesh is opaque and flakes gently. A whole fish takes 8–9 minutes each side depending on thickness.
While the fish rests, toss samphire in a splash of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Grill it for 2–3 minutes — just until tender with a slight char. It'll taste of the sea and crunch.
Lay the turbot on a warm plate. Pile samphire alongside. Top the fish with a generous spoonful of crab butter — it'll melt into the warm flesh and soak into any pan juices. Finish with a crack of pepper and a squeeze of fresh lemon.
“Don't fuss. Turbot is beautiful on its own — the skin should be golden and crisp. Arrange samphire in a loose handful, not a neat pile. Rest the crab butter on top of the fish so it melts as your guest cuts in. A small pool of lemon-y pan juice on the side is good. Warm plates, always. Eat it while it's hot.”
First bite: crust of salt and char, then the delicate, sweet white flesh of turbot — almost buttery on its own. The crab butter hits next, rich and briny, folding into the fish. Samphire cuts through with salt and a mineral crunch. By the end, the fish has soaked up everything and you're chasing the last mouthful with lemon. No fuss, just very, very good.
Skip the turbot and crab butter — instead grill thick slices of king oyster mushroom (sliced lengthwise, brushed with olive oil) until golden and tender. Make a 'crab' butter by blending 120g salted butter with 100g toasted walnuts (finely chopped), 2 tbsp kelp powder (or nori, blended), a pinch of smoked paprika, lemon juice, and sea salt. Plate the grilled mushroom with the same samphire and walnut–kelp butter on top. It's umami-rich, smoky, and genuinely satisfying — the mineral note of kelp doing the seaweed work.
Crisp, mineral, acidity cuts crab butter. Bacchus if you want local pride.
Hoppy, dry, cleans the palate between bites of rich butter and tender fish.
Fizz and acidity, no booze — proper refreshing against the heat and richness.
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