Charred Mackerel with Roast Beetroot, Crowdie & Dill Oil
The West Highlands on a plate — if the West Highlands smelled this good
Late-running mackerel are still coming into the sea lochs in October, fat from a summer feeding, and they deserve better than a Tuesday night grill with nothing to say for itself. This one pairs them with the earthy sweetness of Argyll-grown beetroot and a smear of crowdie — Scotland's fresh curd cheese, sharp and clean as a west-coast morning — cut through with a bright dill oil that does exactly what you need it to do. Jay would call it deceptively simple. I'd call it Tuesday night done right.
How to Cook It
- 01
Roast the beetroot low and slow
Heat your oven to 190°C. Scrub the beetroot, cut into rough wedges or halves depending on size, toss with a good splash of rapeseed oil, salt and pepper, and spread onto a roasting tray. Roast for 35-40 minutes until tender through and caramelised at the edges — a knife should meet no resistance. Set aside to cool slightly, then toss with the cider vinegar while still warm so it drinks it in.
~40 min - 02
Make the dill oil
Blanch the dill in boiling salted water for 20 seconds, then straight into iced water — this fixes the colour and stops it tasting like boiled herbs. Squeeze out the water hard, blitz with 100ml of the rapeseed oil and a pinch of salt for a full two minutes until vivid green and smooth. Pass through a fine sieve or muslin if you want it clean; leave it rough if you are feeling honest.
~10 min - 03
Season and dry the mackerel
Pat the butterflied mackerel very dry with kitchen paper — any moisture and you are steaming, not charring, and nobody wants that. Score the skin three or four times at an angle, season both sides generously with salt and pepper, and leave them open on a board for five minutes. This is also the moment to have your glass of wine, because the next bit moves fast.
~7 min - 04
Char the mackerel, skin side first
Get a heavy cast-iron pan or griddle over the highest heat you have until it is properly smoking — not warm, not hot, smoking. Add a thin film of rapeseed oil, lay the mackerel in skin-side down and press each one flat with a fish slice for the first 30 seconds so the skin makes full contact. Cook for 3-4 minutes until the skin is blistered and coming away from the flesh at the edges, then flip and cook for no more than 90 seconds on the flesh side. Mackerel is done when it just separates at the thickest point.
~6 min - 05
Warm the beetroot through
While the fish rests for two minutes — yes, even mackerel gets a rest — return the beetroot to a warm pan with a splash of water and a little oil, toss over medium heat until just heated through. You are not re-roasting it, just waking it up. Taste for seasoning.
~3 min
“Spread a generous spoonful of crowdie across the centre of each warm plate — do not fuss with it, a palette knife drag is fine. Pile the warm beetroot off to one side, then lay the mackerel over the crowdie skin-side up so it stays crisp. Spoon the dill oil around and over with some generosity; this is not a garnish, it is part of the dish. A few flakes of sea salt over the fish skin at the very last moment and you are done. Serve immediately — charred mackerel waits for nobody.”
The first thing that hits you is smoke and iron off the skin, then the fat of the fish opens up and you realise you are eating something fundamentally, elementally good. The crowdie underneath is cool and lactic — it does the job of crème fraîche but with more character and a faint sheep-milk tang. Then the beetroot, earthy and a little sharp from the vinegar, and the dill oil threading through everything like a cold-water herb garden after rain. It is a plate that feels like the coast without trying to tell you about it.
Swap the mackerel for thick slabs of wood-smoked tofu — press it hard, dry it thoroughly, season it as you would the fish, and char it in the same ripping-hot pan until the surface cracks and blackens. The crowdie becomes a whipped cashew cream with a squeeze of lemon and a pinch of salt, thinned to a similar consistency. Everything else — the roast beetroot, the dill oil, the sea salt finish — stays exactly the same, because it was already doing the heavy lifting.
The Loire's flint and citrus cut clean through mackerel fat and do not flinch at the beetroot — exactly the wine this dish calls up.
Brewed practically next door on Loch Fyne, this amber ale has enough malt body to stand up to oily fish without overpowering the dill.
The live acidity mirrors what white wine would do — cuts the fat, plays with the dill — and the apple note rhymes with the cider vinegar in the beetroot.
- ·Dry fish is charred fish; wet fish is sad fish. Pat it until the paper comes away clean.
- ·The dill oil keeps for three days in the fridge and is quietly excellent on scrambled eggs — do not waste it.
- ·If your crowdie is very firm straight from the fridge, beat it briefly with a fork and a drop of water — it should spread, not resist.
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