I’m writing this, not out of pure nostalgia, but because in the current climate, with as desperate a situation unfolding as any of us can really remember, I think it does us good to reflect on what we would consider to be ‘normal’ life and try and focus on some of the things that make our lives bearable, manageable and moreover, special when it comes to food.

The picture above, of a dish of Monkfish Provençal cooked and served up to me by First Mate Matt Price, on board the hake netter ‘Ajax’, 40 miles West of the Scillies, was undoubtedly one of my all time seafood highlights. Eating fresh fish, only minutes out the water and cooked by the guy who landed it, in that wonderful marine environment.

Now, I’m no philosopher, but I do fervently believe in the deep-seated food memories that shape our being and our daily existence, so much so, that a mere fragrance, colour, sound or melody can evoke profound stirrings in our psyche, which stimulate our taste buds and thence our desire to create something special.

For me I always feel justly at home at a fishing harbour, on a quayside, a vessel, a landing stage, pontoon, beach, sea wall, market hall, fisherman’s hut, or by a fishmonger’s slab………the list just goes on. The sights, smells and sounds of the sea and that coastal scene that I find so naturally evocative, can often bring me close to tears, as I recall with overwhelming fondness, the times I have spent at sea, either fishing, in the company of fishermen or just cooking freshly caught and landed seafood.

Whether it’s the long call of a herring gull, the idling of trawlers’ diesel engines along the quayside, the shout of the auctioneer in the market or the clattering of a fish box-laden forklift along the harbour wall, it stirs me deeply. These memories and images that spring to mind keep me going when things are fraught.

Sunrise or sunset over the horizon, the emerging hues and colours that herald a new dawn and nod to a receding day. A dark moonless sea, bursting with green phosphorescence with each wash of the bow and the sparkling emeralds that drip from the gear as it’s hauled. The seasons and their omnipresent and predictable ways, their signs, signals and meanings. The catch itself, resplendent in the whole spectrum of colours that identify the different species of fish and shellfish that represent our amazing mixed fisheries and the joy on crews’ faces as their trip is made with each iced box stowed below.

The weather, let’s not forget that, which can sully even the hardiest of souls, salt-lashed in a bitter gale as they continue to work against the mountainous, rolling backdrop of the ocean and by contrast, the sun sparkle; shimmering and glittering, jewel-like, on a glassy flat-calm sea - the morning sun on your back as you steam to the first dahn. Even the smell of rotting bait, mingled with diesel fumes from a bubbling exhaust has its place in my sensory bank.

Then there’s the wildlife at sea, sightings and experiences that though seldom witnessed by those not accustomed to life afloat, never fail to stir the soul. Dolphins, porpoises, sharks, the lazily lolling sunfish, seabirds - gannets, fulmars, skuas and a whole host of other gull species, clamouring and vying for scraps (or more) in an aerial frenzy, aft of the the gutting knife.

These memories and thoughts are what keep me doing what I do. They inspire me to do more; to learn, to understand, to get involved and to promote what has, I realise now 55 years later on, always been my true passion.

We’re trying to navigate uncharted waters currently and it’s certainly not plain sailing. However, we have fantastic resources in our midst. We have the most diverse, abundant and responsibly-fished waters in the Northern Hemisphere and of course to harvest them we have our fishermen - the last of the wild hunters, risking their lives daily to feed us and their families, on a timeless quest. Now, perhaps more than ever they need our support. Our food has become so commoditised and we, so detached, from the realities of production, that our seafood eating culture has erred and strayed from the path we once knew. However in times like these, our seas will once again provide for us.

Support our fishermen and their amazing industry, be thankful for their toil and delight in the fruits of their labours and embrace, once again, our Great British Seafood.

Mike