The Weasel

In which Rick Stein causes me and Mrs W to have a domestic in the fishmonger's and I resort to thumbing through specialist magazines

ST RICK of Padstow has been the presiding deity for our fortnight on the North Yorkshire coast. Starting with Mr Stein's Grilled Lemon Sole with Lemon-grass Butter, we moved on to Maryland Crab Cakes with Tarragon Sauce, then came Hot Shellfish with Garlic and Lemon Juice (a classic) followed by Mild Potato Curry topped with Smoked Haddock and a Poached Egg. Even Mrs Weasel, not the world's greatest fish-lover, admitted the toothsomeness of the piscine cuisine. However, she has her limits. Careless of the crowd in the fishmonger's, she exploded. "You are NOT buying those horrible rubbery things. NO!"

"Rick Stein says `they can taste almost like lobster'."

"They're like off-cuts from a tyre factory. We're not having them."

"Are you two having a domestic?" inquired the lady behind the counter.

With that, I accepted defeat with good grace. I must admit that Mr Stein's tribute to the whelk, which appears in his first book English Seafood Cookery (published in 1988 when he was still "Richard Stein"), is heavily qualified: "The flavour is variable; sometimes they taste frightful ... I can't say I am an enthusiast."

But his feelings for the humble gastropod seem to have warmed with the passing of the years. Rick Stein's Taste of the Sea (BBC, 1995) contains a recipe for Shark, Whelk and Octopus Salad. This yummy melange is not quite the ringing endorsement that it sounds, since the dish only contains four whelks. However, in Rick Stein's Fruits of the Sea (BBC, 1997), my hero is more whole-hearted in his appreciation of the shellfish. "I've got a lot of time for whelks," he declares, before introducing his legion of fans to Whelk Fritters. A few pages earlier, there is a dish called Chinese Whelks with Bean Sprouts and Button Mushrooms. "Thinly sliced and stirred into a Chinese stir-fry," Mr Stein insists, "whelks are incredibly good."

It was this that sent me scuttling back, alone this time, to the fishmonger. Though tempted by a pounds 5.25 lobster ("I'm sorry it's so dear," said the saleswoman), I snapped up half a pound of freshly boiled whelks at pounds 1.50. Admittedly, the price of Mr Stein's dish began to soar as I acquired the other ingredients - along with the mushrooms and bean sprouts, it required oyster sauce, soy sauce, dry sherry, pak-choi, root ginger and hot peppers - and I began to think regretfully of the lobster.

You can imagine what Mrs W said when I returned. But Mr Stein's "incredibly good" promise placated her, at least temporarily. After slicing and stir- frying as directed, the result didn't look too bad, while the smell was positively tempting. Moreover, the taste was OK - with the exception of one intractable ingredient.

Even when pared into slivers, the whelks remained, well, whelks. A couple of minutes after taking her first mouthful, Mrs W morosely announced: "I'm still chewing." At my insistence, we chomped on and on ("Just like school dinners," complained my spouse). Nearing the bottom of her bowl, Mrs W put down her spoon. "I'm feeling a bit queasy," she groaned. I was forced to concede that I was feeling not unqueasy myself.

Twenty-four hours later, the whelks were still making their presence felt. St Rick may have come to venerate the blighters, but, as far as I'm concerned, these hardy British gastropods have crossed the cusp into inedibility. Maybe we should only eat tiddlers, like the bulots you get in France. However, I learn from this week's Fishing News that "a new minimum size for whelks will come into effect on 1 January 2000". The same issue contains a host of "Whelks Wanted" adverts, so someone must like 'em, but I don't think we'll be trying Pirelli aux Champignons again in Weasel Villas.

DEDICATED TO excellence - that's the motto of the Weasel column. To this end, I've trawled through a ton of American specialist magazines for recommendations which range from hellish cuisine to a heavenly high. Let's kick off with Chile Pepper magazine ("For those who like it hot!"), which, incidentally, reveals that "Britain's Queen Mother has a taste for the piquant". The QM is probably aching to get her mitts on the winners of this journal's 1999 Fiery Food Challenge. They include such agonising delicacies as "Hotter N' Hell", the winning hot salsa, and "Crying Tongue", the best hot sauce. "Peaches and Screams" snatched first place among fruity hot sauces, while "Scorned Woman" cheese straws won the prize of top snack. "I Scream" sauce emerged as champion among fresh salsas, and a condiment dubbed "Nytro" scorched its way to victory in the meat-sauce category.

For more placid types, the latest issue of Pipes and Tobaccos offers an expert appraisal of tinned baccy. Optimistically, the reviewer remarks of an aromatic blend called Blue Note: "Rather than getting the the usual pariah treatment pipe-smokers receive, people will probably pay you to smoke this around them." However, he is unrestrained in his disparagement of a mixture called Liberty: "It smells and tastes like floral soap - this sooty little blend does not resemble anything that should be smoked in a pipe." But he is utterly seduced by London Blend No 1,000: "I sat with my nose in the tin before even lighting up ... rich, opulent and intoxicating."

I'd venture that even this blissful baccy is not as intoxicating as the winners of the 11th Annual Cannabis Cup sponsored by the venerable journal High Times ("the most notorious magazine in the world"). Held in the Netherlands, this heady occasion was attended by 1,500 potheads who assayed 40 different strains of marijuana. In such circs, you might think it would be difficult to detect the subtleties which denote excellence. One judge explained: "You smoke until you get high, then you smoke a different sample, and if it gets you higher than the first one, you put that brand at number one until another strain gets you even higher." As a result of such judicious assessment, a potent shrub called Super Silver Haze was declared the victor. Just don't confuse it with your ready-rubbed.

HAVE YOU noticed the changing fashions in motoring techniques? For example, overtaking on the inside has suddenly become accepted practice on our motorways. Of course, driving while engaged in an animated chinwag on the mobile has been a commonplace for some time now, but recently I have spotted certain individuals displaying their manipulative ingenuity by simultaneously steering, phoning and smoking. But the most surprising development is the unexpected popularity of U-turns. Why this manoeuvre should become the latest trend is a mystery. Obviously, the tactic is performed by Jack-the-lads for whom every minute counts. However, the need to do a U-turn suggests that they were driving the wrong way in the first place, perhaps being distracted by fiddling with mobiles, cigarettes, boom-boxes...