“Ray Spines”, sounds like the name an author might inflict on a dodgeball insurance salesman who wears a Hawaiian shirt and a pork pie hat. His long suffering wife would have to be called Barb and he would have a minor role in a particularly gruesome murder mystery. That’s one Ray Spines for you. My ray spines are a different kettle of fish. Let me back the boat up a bit.
The traditionalists amongst you might be a bit horrified at the prospect of drinking red wine with fish. Particularly with a fish as ‘white’ as hake. The key is the other ingredients in this sort of stew / soup / bowl of deliciousness. When you have got over your shock at my suggestion of red wine with fish, I encourage you to try Poached Hake in Tomato and Red Wine Sauce. Anybody who enjoys a good read will love preparing this.
The Wife and I are pretty ordinary people. That is the wife is pretty and I am ordinary. We don’t go crazy with fine dining in multi-starred restaurants and I usually restrict my wine budget to less than the price of a tank of petrol. It’s not that I object to great food and fine wines. I did a lot of fine dining in my younger days as an advertising account director. Not quite the stuff of Mad Men, but close enough. Nowadays, I get a bit miffed when my partaking in a meal is like a bit-part actor in a Broadway show, where the chef is the star with a chorus line of waiters in support. My role is only to eat the food, not complain and then pay the exorbitant bill when the culinary curtain falls. No, This is not for me. I prefer simpler things.
When I go out to buy the ingredients for our meals, I tend to not have a hard and fast list for the meats and fish. I like to see what looks good and choose the best available ingredients (subject to affordability and availability). When it comes to the fish, haddock tends to get overlooked. It is not a particularly fashionable fish. Fashion plays a role in all these things.
“Who’s the ‘hard-nosed negotiator’?” I can hear you think.
“Who is the guy who will squeeze blood out of a turnip?”
“Who will walk away from something he loves, if the price is not right?”
“It’s me.” I try to say that in a tough, sleeves rolled up, cigar at the corner of my mouth kind of way. I want you to have the right picture. I’m no sap. I don’t walk into negotiations and accept the opening bid. Every price can and should be negotiated. Screw the bastards before they screw you! That’s how to play the game.
It’s early, very early on an ice-cold morning. Temperatures are just above freezing. My legs are aching, my throat is rasping and my lungs are burning from the effort as I grind out another few meters. I stand out of the saddle. Press left, press right. The wind cuts across the road and freezes my hands to the bars.
