My Last Supper (or A Dish Too Far!)

milt (n) (Germanic, old English) ~ the seminal sack of a male fish.

 Those of you familiar with this blog will appreciate the considerable influence Dorothy, my late maternal grandmother, had on both my cooking and, more generally, on my overall attitude to food. For the newcomers amongst you, Dot was something of a domestic goddess (take a look at my article on lambs hearts). Her food was simple, certainly, quintessentially English, quite definitely, but no one could ever describe my grandmother's cooking as plain! Her ability to produce richly flavoured, traditional dishes from a few simple ingredients was legendary and one of the abiding memories of my formative years. Though she never strayed far from what were then perceived as traditional English flavours and cooking methods, she had an innate understanding of the qualities of each individual ingredient and how best to combine them. Cheaper cuts of meat and offal featured prominently; hearts, livers and the kidneys of various beasts, along with a strange 'offal of the sea' - herring milts! This tea time treat, innocuously referred to simply as 'soft roe', was eagerly anticipated. Floured, fried in beef dripping and served with just a sprinkle of malt vinegar, a little salt and a few slices of fresh bread and butter (cut so thinly they were almost translucent), they were an absolute treat! To this day, a piping hot plate of delicious fried herring milts is still my ultimate 'last supper' dish. Understandably, no mention was ever made to my 8 year old self, as I awaited my tea with excited anticipation, of the milt's specific biological purpose!!!

All good things must, however, come to an end and, following a ban on herring fishing imposed by the British government in 1977 (in order to protect and preserve rapidly dwindling herring stocks), the consumption of herring and, consequently, herring milts in Britain rapidly declined. Indeed, looking back, I would have been around 10 years old when soft roe suddenly disappeared from my grandparents' supper table. As my grandmother would only buy her milts fresh from the local wet fishmonger when they were in season, effectively her source of supply dried up for the period of the ban. Oh the celebrations (in my grandparents' household, at least) when, in 1983, the ban was finally lifted! Sadly, the British love of herring  never really rekindled, leaving UK sales of the fish in the doldrums for many decades. Until recently, that is - in the past few years there are definite signs that sales of herring in Britain, particularly in the form of kippers, are on the increase. 

I've always viewed herring milts as a thrifty meal - food of the working classes, in much the same way oysters were in the 19th Century and, indeed, even today they still represent exceptional value for money. This assumption, as it turns out, may have been somewhat . . . well . . . presumptuous! In the course of researching this article, it became apparent that herring milts were a fairly common ingredient in Victorian recipes for English savories, too! 

Savories were piquant, salty and savory delights, often cheese or offal based and frequently served on toast, fried bread or the like. They formed part of the now virtually extinct savory course, the last vestige of which is probably our modern day cheese board. The savory course first appeared in the early 19th Century as part of English formal dinning and came after the sweet course, but before the dessert (dessert meaning, rather confusingly in this instance, the final flourish of fruit and nuts, not pudding, as we would assume today!). It proved very popular, particularly in male dominated establishments such as gentlemen's clubs and the university dining clubs and halls of Oxford and Cambridge. However, the savory course's popularity began to wain during the early part of the 20th century as dining fashions changed, before being finally snuffed out by the restrictions and rationing of the second world war. 

Examples of savories based on herring milts include, 'a Sefton of herring roes', named after the 2nd Earl of Sefton, William Molyneux; a sportsman, gambler and close associate of the Prince Regent (later George IV). The dish, probably created by Sefton's French chef, Louis-Eustache Ude, is a delightful concoction of herring milts, anchovies, cream, nutmeg and a little cayenne. Most other savory recipes for milts lean towards some form of devilling; either a dry devil (i.e. devilled flour, including mustard powder, cayenne and pepper), or a devilled sauce of made mustard, cayenne, pepper and either mushroom ketchup or Worcestershire sauce (or a mixture of the two).

  

 If you've never tried herring milts, you simply don't know what you're missing. Not unlike lambs sweetbreads, cooked well they should have a crisp exterior with an utterly yielding, exquisitely soft interior, only with that unmistakable fresh taste of the sea. When in season, fresh milts direct from a stiff fresh herring are absolutely sublime, but alas, usually difficult to obtain. However, fear not; carefully frozen milts (that have been handled with respect and not damaged prior to freezing) make a perfectly acceptable alternative. 

 

Go on, don't be squeamish! Live dangerously!

A starter/tapas dish of fried herring and milts, with lardons of my own signature Kentish Black bacon, all on sourdough toast, created by Jo Jo's restaurant in Tankerton

The Recipes

Recipe 1 - Plain Fried Soft Roe, with Bread & Butter

Not so much a recipe as a method. This is how my grandma used to cook her herring milts:

Add a good lump of beef dripping to a heavy based frying pan and place over a high heat (not your best beef dripping saved from the Sunday roast, obviously, that would simply be a waste! Shop bought, processed dripping is just fine here). You need enough dripping to generously cover the base of the pan once melted. Whilst the dripping is heating up to close to smoking point, carefully pass your herring milts through plain flour heavily seasoned with salt and freshly ground white pepper (or perhaps a mixture of black and white), shaking off any excess flour. As soon as your fat has come to temperature, swiftly place the milts individually into the pan, ensuring there is a little space between each of them. Leave to fry undisturbed for say 3 minutes, or until a nice golden brown crust has formed on the underside, before quickly turning each milt over and frying hard for another 2 to 3 minutes, by which time your milts should be ready to serve. Dish out onto warmed plates, with malt vinegar, salt and fresh bread and butter to hand. As a tea time treat, I would think perhaps 6oz per person would be sufficient, although I'm quite capable of devouring twice that amount at one sitting! 

To shake things up a little, you could try a dry devil by adding a teaspoon of Coleman's mustard powder and a quarter teaspoon, or so, of ground cayenne to the flour.

Recipe 2 - Pan Fried Herring Milts on Buttered Toast, with a Parsley & Caper Sauce

Serves 2 for supper, or perhaps 4 as a starter (or even as a savory!)

For the sauce:

1/2 pint full fat milk

1/2 smallish onion, finely chopped

a small carrot, finely chopped

1/2 stick celery thinly sliced

1 fresh bay leaf

1oz unsalted butter

1oz plain flour

a handful of curly parsley chopped relatively fine

a small handful of capers, rinsed and roughly chopped

salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste

a little fresh lemon juice to taste

 

For the fried milts:

12 to 16 fresh herring milts (around 12oz), or frozen milts carefully defrosted and drained

plain flour, enough to coat the milts

salt and freshly ground black or white pepper (or a mixture of both)

a good slug of vegetable oil

a good knob of butter

4 slices of good bread of your choice for toasting (personally, I prefer a yeasted wholemeal)

enough butter for the toast

First, to make the sauce: Pour the milk into a saucepan and add the onion, carrot, celery and bay leaf to the pan. Bring the milk just to the boil, then take the pan off the heat and leave to infuse for about an hour. Strain out the the spent vegetables and bay leaf. Pour the milk back into its pan and place over a gentle flame to heat through. Meanwhile, in a separate pan, melt the butter and stir in the flour. Allow the flour to cook out gently for a few minutes, without colouring, then whisk in the warm infused milk, a third at a time, until you have a nice smooth sauce. Let it simmer gently for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the sauce is too thick, thin it with a little more hot milk.

While the sauce is simmering, flour and fry the herring milts, as instructed in Recipe 1, but using a mix of vegetable oil and butter, rather than dripping, if you prefer. Having turned the milts over in the pan, add the parsley and capers to the sauce, stir through and then sharpen with a little lemon juice and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve the milts on the slices of hot buttered toast, with the sauce spooned over and to one side of the toasts. Garnish each plate with a sprig of parsley and, perhaps, a slice of lemon