Foodie Treats, 19th and 20th July

It was clear that the old batteries had to be replaced so once the harbour set had charged up the new ones we made our way into Milford Haven harbour. It is a small harbour entrance, as you can see but I was confident that we would make it because that huge bulk carrier had made it in there.

More detail you probably don't need: Being in a harbour would seem an ideal way of avoiding the buckets, but because we are moored on the fish dock it is a half mile walk to the marina lavatoires on the smart side of the harbour and, of course, half a mile back. So, we are, ahem, bucketing for later disposal for the most part, but going to the showers in the mornings is essential.

To add to the discomfort we bought a new set of batteries and had to remove the old ones. Bearing in mind that it takes two strong Welshmen to lift one battery, getting the old set up the vertical ladder from the engine room and out through the deckhouse was horrid. We are in the middle of a heat wave and there are no sea breezes in harbour to cool us. Getting the new ones on board was hard too, especially getting them down the vertical concrete wall of the fish dock which is about 15 feet without spilling the acid out of them. Other things we did during this time was a complete engine oil change and a gearbox oil change. This meant shifting vertically about 200 kg of oil in large plastic barrels. Thank goodness we had the showers in the marina. During this time though, without electricity we had no water for hand-washing on board and had to rely on travel wipes. One of the comforts we found was the launderette and with the washing line strung on the fore-deck we look like real trawler-trash.

The fish dock at Milford is part of the route of what is almost a passeigata. People bring sandwiches to come and watch us work on deck, lifting huge amounts of machinery in the mid-day sun. Young boys stop and ask if we are still using her for fishing and get a cuff around the ear. Friendly folk, in particular a Scottish fisherman Henry who belongs at Eyemouth and recognised Heroine as being an Eyemouth native herself. He is looking forward to seeing us there. There were many chaps with dogs who walked by several times a day, to see what progress we had make. Everyone was keen to talk about wooden fishing boats. We even had a visit from two dock policemen, who said it was nothing to worry about, just a routine visit. So they sat in our canvas directors chairs on the aft deck for an hour, drank tea and ate our chocolate chip biscuits and talked about property prices, how good the Poles are as workers and what we were planning to do with the boat. All very lovely.

I was woken in the morning by the pungent smell of Diesel and found Tim on the aft deck where we could see red Diesel flooding off the back of the huge trawler in front of us. Apparently whilst re-fueling the crew had switched the wrong lever over. Very soon, the dock officials turned up and began throwing what looked like A4 photocopier paper into the dock and asked us to join in, kindly supplying us with big packs of same. It was then that we found out that they were special absorbent mats, that cost about £90 per two dozen. As you can see from the pictures they were throwing them into the water with abandon.

The leaky trawler was replaced by Mercurious; a dirty but dashing 25m beam trawler and I took the advantage of their presence to see if they wanted to sell us some fish. I was hoping there might be scallops which are never fresh away from the boats instead they very kindly gave us a carrier bag full; two whiting, two dover sole (Lenny's favourite "black" sole) and two very handsome plaice. They would take no money from us. As Mercurious roared away out to sea again, the deck-hand who had given us the fish shouted to remind us to leave the plaice for a day as they need to "hang" for a bit.

That night we ate the whiting and the dover sole, fried quickly in almost no oil, on their own with a little salt and lemon. No wonder people say they don't like fish when the stuff you get in fish fingers, frozen fish, fish from even the best fish-mongers is so old it actually smells and tastes fishy. Our catch was sweet and meaty and savoury, with only the iodine tang of the sea as a reminder of where it came from. So, thank you, Mercurious and your crew for an educational and inspiring gastronomical experience.

Everyone should eat fish this fresh, it is a crime that restaurants charge real money for flesh that should have been thrown away a week ago. Thinking about it, the beam trawler is a bit different because it seems to goes out day by day but other deep water boats spend up to 10 days at sea. Even if a fish were caught on the last day, that's 24 hours before it lands. Then add a day for local sales, a day or two by refigerated lorry to reach the fish markets such as Billingsgate. Two or three days there until it gets into the restaurant or fishmongers fridge where it sits until we mugs come along and buy it, after it has been dead for at least a week, and it could be nearly three weeks.



Milford Haven itself really is a haven for good food - we had an excellent dinner at Charthouse, perfectly spiced fish cakes with very fresh crab (not advertised!) , would suit any palate, hot and sweet dipping sauce. Bass, fresh as a daisy (probably just off Mercurious) in chives and ginger, vegetables succulent, full of true earthy taste and each seasoned differently. Fabulous local cheese board, I only wish I could remember the names of the cheeses but it's a enjoyable task to look forward to for next time.

Coming to Milford was always anticipated as a small gourmet pilgrimage because Mr. Evans up in the town produces the best rib-steak we have ever eaten. This includes the skipper's own home-grown, organic Welsh Black, and it takes a good steak to win that kind of comparison. Mr. Evans shop is worth the journey and his bacon is excellent too. His house bangers are the best I've ever had, even better than the famous "Simply Sausages" in Smithfield market. I should say that they are lean, meaty and porky with fresh sage and other herbs and unusually not over-salty. "An excellent sausage".

I got talking to a couple outside Evans and they told me that the place to get ham in MF was up the hill at another butchers. This apparently is where all the Italian and Spanish trawlermen (and there are many, but let's get political later) get their ham. It was a bit of a schlep up the hill but the rewards were great. They sell top-notch parma ham and slice it there and then. When I asked how much it was he told me it was 6 pounds a pound, when I said I'd take a pound he asked me if I was sure. No, I'm not sure now, typing this I know I should have got two pounds.