MIKEY BELL

I opened a pasta recipe recently with a story of two locations I visited for a holiday that inspired the dish (you can find it here).

On posting, I was afraid of the online mutiny I could face because sometimes food writers get dragged across several coals for giving lengthy tales of adventure before a very basic recipe.

JuSt geT tO ThE rEcipE, they say. 

Fine. Fair. Some people just want to eat, but I like my food with a side of talk, so here we go again. 

Picture this… a beautifully warm, humid night in a little tucked-away restaurant in Gran Canaria…

Kidding, I won’t go into the whole ordeal for you but I could, god damn it, because there are certain meals in life that could command an entire backstory, and this truly is one of them.

I won’t labour you with the whole story but just know that story starts with a few glasses of wine on a balcony and a sudden craving for shellfish, peaks with a small skillet of nuclear hot, sizzling prawns bathed in a little shallow pool of frothing butter and thick slices of garlic, and ends with two very happy boys who return to Gran Canaria 2 – 3 times a year.

(Not just for the prawns, we have friends there – hi guys, you’re just as, if not more, important than the prawns, I promise).

So a note on eating.

Prawns aren’t meant to be eaten politely. No. They’re loud, confident creatures, and like so many similarly mannered things in life, demand your full, undivided attention when you engage with them.

I recreate them at home so that I can have the experience with very minimal labour, without a plane ticket, and without constricting issues like not getting butter and prawn juice all over my face and self. But even I must admit they are an homage more than a recreation because the prawns in Gran Canaria are so different – unctuous, meatier, holding flavour components more sturdily – but that doesn’t mean I can’t try. 

The ones we can by at home here in Wales still offer the most delicious experience, and it’s one we often have to talk ourselves out of making so that we don’t overdo it and make ourselves sick of eating the same thing all the time.

Because trust me, we could.

The recipe itself is simple and I was concerned that it even warranted a write up at all, but there’s a few things I wanted to share about the shopping, treating, cooking, and of course, eating of prawns that made me feel it warranted a post.

So let’s go there.

• Go raw, never cooked – you fry a pre-cooked prawn and you’re just warming up tire rubber. Go raw, every single time.
• Shell on – I know some people are squeamish around this, but I would argue a squeamish person wouldn’t perhaps get much value from prawns anyway? So maybe I’m talking to the wrong audience here. If you’re with me with shells on, then we both know it’s more flavour, better protection against the hot pan, crispy shell, butter hiding in all the nooks and crannies to be sucked at. No contest. Get shells on.
• Shiny flesh – if it feels mushy or looks a little dull and limp, avoid them. You want firm flesh and shiny bodies.
• Buy fresh – frozen is absolutely fine, I must say, so don’t think that this is a hard and solid rule. I’ve done it many times with frozen, you just have to make sure they are properly thawed, but if you do find yourself in a market or near a fishmonger, it’s worth getting them fresh.
• Sniff, sniff – they should smell like clean seawater. If they smell fishy, they probably are.
• Size matters – look for big ones, not small ones, so they can cook evenly together.
• Dry, dry, dry – wet prawns will steam in the pan instead of fry. Pat them as dry as you can before cooking.
• De-veining – meh. There’s an argument for doing this, but the argument isn’t coming from me. I don’t bother. I’m sure YouTube can show you how to do this better than I could describe. But yeah… I don’t bother with de-veining.

And as for ingredients?

• Butter – I mean it’s a recipe for butter-fried prawns specifically but if you absolutely must use oil, go on. It’ll be fine. It won’t be the below recipe and it won’t taste like it either, but it’ll be fine, I’m sure.
• Herbs – I finish with parsley because it just ha that perfect botanical-like freshness which contrasts the creamy butteriness, but it would be a lovely soft finish with dill too, I’d just punch it up with more lemon. Chives also have their place here.
• Spices – sure, why not? I don’t, just because when I want to experience these prawns, I want their salty little sea bodies in the same spirit I have them in Gran Canaria which is to say in nothing but butter, garlic, lemon and their own brine, but you could spike your butter with a little paprika or cumin if you want. Ooh, while I’m here, even some harissa would be a good shout?
• Aromatics – a little grated ginger in the butter? Sounds good. Some lime zest? Great. A few hoops of thinly sliced chilli? Sounds like a dream. Do I want it? Not really, I’m happy with the below as is, but I love the sound of these things, so have at it.

My final point is serving suggestions.

I suggest nothing.

Well, not nothing, I will absolutely recommend serving this with some soft, warm, crusty bread that you can use to mop up the butter (hence there’s a lot of butter in the recipe… it’s extra butter for the moppage…) that will be infused with the sweet, briny sea-saltiness of the prawns.

I’m sorry, even writing this is making me want to cook these tonight, and I’m not even lying.

Bye.

Serves 2

350 – 400g raw king prawns (shell on – which is approx. 8 – 12 prawns)

80g unsalted butter (yes, that’s loads, but you need more for the mentioned bread moppage)

4 garlic cloves – sliced thickly

1 lemon

A handful of fresh parsley – chopped finely (optional)

Crusty bread – warmed (mandatory)

1. Read the intro for some guidance on prawn shopping and treating, but when you have your prawns and you’re ready to cook, pat them so they are as dry as possible.
2. Melt roughly 60g of the butter in a pan with high sides and a heavy bottom on a hight heat (I always go for a cast-iron skillet). Let the butter melt and foam.
3. Put the prawns in the pan in a single layer and cook for 2 – 3 minutes a side and they will start turning from a light, silvery grey to a fleshy pink, like reviving the dead. Delightful. 
4. Drop the heat slightly, add the thick slices of garlic and the remaining butter and cook for a further 30 seconds or so, just tossing the prawns so they are coated in the glossy garlic butter. 
5. Take off the heat, squeeze over as much juice from the lemon as you want (all of the juice from the whole lemon for me please) and scatter over the parsley, if using, tossing once more for a full coating.
6. Serve with the bread, making sure it’s warm and crusty. I bring the pan straight to the table, making sure the wine is ice cold, and dunk the bread straight in as we eat. You need not be so impatient and greedy.