...from an Irish chef working with Yotam Ottolenghi in London, writes DOMINI KEMP

I RARELY GIVE FOOD demonstrations as quite frankly, they terrify me. It’s the culinary equivalent of stand-up, and everyone knows how scary that is. We’ve all heard about comedians who admit to having to get absolutely trollied before they can summon up the nerve to go on stage. Unfortunately, that option isn’t viable for chefs because of the close proximity of knives and flames - except perhaps for the late, great Keith Floyd, who made it part of his act.

I recently watched a demo given by a lovely Irish chef, Richard Gleeson, who works in the wonderful Ottolenghi restaurants in London, and who has also worked at the gorgeous Petersham Nurseries – one of the most wonderful places to eat in London.

Part of me was hoping to score a few tips on “how to give better demos” as I feel a bit lacklustre in comparison to the theatrics that go on with big stage demonstrations nowadays.

The other part of me was just hoping to taste a few nice dishes. Happily, there were no rings of fire, dry ice coming out of his eyes, or mini-explosions. Instead, we were treated to a gently paced evening where Gleeson spoke of his love of good food and his gratitude to his current employers and to Darina Allen, with whom he did a course in Ballymaloe, after ditching a career in advertising.

I came away with a few good tips, including his method of frying mackerel. Start with a boned fillet, skin side down in a non-stick pan with cold olive oil. You need to stay with it and keep pressing it down while you turn on the heat – especially for the first few minutes – to stop it from curling up. You don’t need to flip it over. You just keep it pressed down and when the oil really starts to sizzle and bubble, keep cooking it until the flesh goes from beige and pink to a translucent light beige, grey colour. Once most of the pink hue has gone, you have fantastic crispy skin and just-cooked fish.

He served it with a delicious salad with samphire which he left raw and mixed with various bright ingredients and lots and lots of herbs, which is the real secret to a lot of the dishes that come from Ottonleghi. Naturally enough, I tweaked this again as I wanted something a little nuttier, and because I love samphire so much I think it should be served separately. So I replaced it with some sprouting beans which worked really well.

Pan-fried mackerel with celery, fennel, pomegranate and mint

Serves 4

1 pomegranate

50ml cranberry juice (optional)

2 fennel bulb

Juice 1 lemon

4 stick celery

50ml olive oil

Salt and pepper

Handful sprouted beans

Splash maple syrup or agave syrup

1 bunch mint leaves

½ bunch tarragon leaves

4 mackerel fillets

Olive oil

This salad takes just minutes to prep. Roll the pomegranate on a hard surface. You will feel the crunch of the seeds as they are rolled away from the edges and from the confines of their clusters inside. Cut a small slice and squeeze out some of the juice into a cup of cranberry juice (this is Richard’s tip). Then slice it open and gently squeeze each half into the cup. The seeds fall out, but may need encouragement. Pick through them and discard the pith – most of that should rise up to the surface if you store them in the cranberry juice.

Cut the fennel in half (vertically) and then cut into thin slices and toss in a bowl with the juice of the lemon. Cut the celery into thin slices, diagonally, which look nicer. Add them to the fennel and toss with the olive oil. Season with some salt. Add the sprouted beans and some maple syrup or agave. Mix well and taste.

Have the herbs picked and ready to go. You’ll add them and the drained pomegranate seeds at the last minute.

Set the salad aside and cook as described above: start with the fish, skin side down in cold olive oil in a non-stick pan. Gently heat until the oil is bubbling and sizzling at the sides. When the flesh changes colour and loses most of the pink hues, it’s cooked. Season lightly, toss the salad with the pomegranate and herbs, season again and plate up.

Chickpea, tomato and bread soup

Here’s another Ottolenghi recipe which I’ve tweaked here and there.

Serves at least 6

100g stale bread

120ml olive oil

Salt and pepper

I onion, sliced

1 fennel bulb, sliced

1 carrot, peeled and diced

3 celery sticks, sliced

1 tbsp tomato puree

250ml white wine

400g tin chopped tomatoes

1 tbsp chopped oregano

1 tbsp chopped thyme leaves

2 bay leaves

2 tsp caster sugar

1 litre vegetable stick

400g tin chickpeas, drained

Few tsps pesto (optional)

Preheat an oven to 180 degrees/gas 4. Rip the bread into bigger than bite-sized chunks, drizzle with some olive oil and season. Bake them in the oven until they are golden brown and crisp.

You may need to keep an eye on them, drizzle with a little more oil and check when they’re not burning. But about 15-20 minutes should do it. Set them aside while you make the soup.

You should have about 100ml of olive oil left. Saute the onion and fennel in a large saucepan in half this oil. Sweat it with no lid on the pot, but don’t let it colour. Season lightly with some salt and pepper. After a few minutes, add the carrot and celery. After another minute or so, add the tomato puree and white wine. Let it bubble away and deglaze your pan and reduce down. Then add the tomatoes, herbs, caster sugar and stock. Simmer for about 20 minutes.

Put the drained chick peas back into the empty tin or a small bowl and crush some of them with the end of a rolling pin, or else mash some of them, or give about a third of them a quick pulse with some olive oil. But don’t turn them into hummus.

Add the crushed and whole chicken peas to the soup. Stir and season it. Add the bread and stir again serve with extra olive oil and a few teaspoons of pesto on top, if you fancy.