Charlotte Spud, Roe & Dulse — Three Waters on a Plate
Spring catch meets the bog, finished with briny butter and two kinds of joy
Charlotte potatoes are sweet little things in spring — perfect for soaking up a proper dulse beurre blanc made with local seaweed that tastes like the sea actually came to visit. Herring and trout roe are both landed fresh in Lough Neagh and the North Coast right now, so you get two flavours of brine, two textures, and honestly, you're eating the whole story of the water in one bite. I nicked the dulse idea from a lunch in Ballycastle that went on far too long and was all the better for it.
How to Cook It
- 01
Rehydrate the dulse, prep the roe
Soak the dried dulse in 100ml cold water for 10 minutes — it'll plump up and smell properly oceanic. While that sits, lay the herring and trout roe on separate paper towels; don't crush them, just let them breathe. Finely dice the shallot.
~10 min - 02
Cook the Charlottes
Boil salted water in a pot, drop in the whole unpeeled Charlottes. They're small — about 12 minutes until a knife slides through cleanly but they still hold their shape. Drain, let them cool just enough to handle, then halve them lengthwise. A little steam still rising is right.
~15 min - 03
Build the beurre blanc
Melt 20g butter in a small saucepan over medium heat, add the diced shallot, cook gently for 2 minutes — no colour. Pour in the white wine, let it bubble down to about 2 tablespoons. Add the dulse and its soaking liquid, simmer for 3 minutes so the dulse flavour creeps into everything. The sauce should smell briny and green.
~8 min - 04
Whisk in the butter, off heat
Remove the pan from the heat. Cut the remaining 100g cold butter into small cubes. Whisk in a few cubes at a time, letting each one melt before adding the next — this keeps the sauce emulsified and glossy, not greasy. Taste, season with a pinch of fleur de sel. It should taste salty, nutty, with a briny seaweed hum underneath.
~5 min - 05
Warm the potatoes
Reheat the Charlotte halves gently in a dry pan or in a low oven for 2 minutes — they just need to be warm, not hot. Don't add fat; the sauce will do that.
~3 min - 06
Plate and finish
Place 2 Charlotte halves in the middle of each warm plate, cut-side up. Spoon the dulse beurre blanc around and over. Top each potato half with a small pile of herring roe and a smaller pile of trout roe — contrast in colour and flavour. Finish with a tiny crack of fleur de sel and a turn of black pepper. Serve immediately while the sauce is glossy.
~2 min
“Two warm potato halves, cut-side proud, getting a good spoon of that seaweed butter pooling underneath and around. The roe sits on top like you've just caught them — two different colours, two different sizes of bead, two different briny notes. The dulse in the sauce should be visible; don't blend it smooth like you're scared of it. This is a plate that tastes like the sea and tastes like home, at the same time.”
First bite: hot butter, cold roe that pops and floods your mouth with salt and fish oil, the potato sweet and dense. Middle of the plate: dulse's mineral, almost meaty undertone softens the roe's sharpness. Last: herring roe's bolder brine lingers while the trout roe's butter-gentle sweetness fades. One phrase: seaweed-kissed spring in a spoon.
Swap the butter for good-quality vegan butter (or use cold-pressed rapeseed oil, very carefully whisked in). Lose the roe entirely — instead, top the warm Charlottes with toasted nori sheets torn into flakes and a scatter of capers or cured green olives to echo the brine and pop. The dulse beurre blanc stays; dulse is vegan, and the seaweed becomes the hero instead of a supporting player. You lose nothing in flavour — you've just shifted the savouriness from animal to plant. Serve warm potatoes, glossy seaweed sauce, crisp nori, capers. It's different, but it's honest.
Bone-dry, steely, built for shellfish and seaweed — won't fight the roe, will brighten the dulse
Clean carbonation cuts through the richness of the butter, refreshes between bites of roe
Acid and herbal notes echo the dulse; the fizz does what beer does — resets your palate
- ·Don't over-whisk the beurre blanc or it breaks — slow and steady wins the race, and you end up with something glossy and alive rather than split and sad
- ·Buy your roe the morning you cook; it's delicate and doesn't keep well — ask the fishmonger when it came in
- ·If dulse is impossible to find, use a thin sheet of nori instead, rehydrated and torn, whisked into the sauce at the last second — not the same, but honest
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