Kris Kent takes a look at fishing food and drink that he has enjoyed on some of his fishing trips.
Most of my fishing buddies, and lots of other fishermen I’m sure, squeeze their fishing in around work and family lives. An hour or two, here or there, after work or during the weekend - kids parties, meals, clubs and societies allowing. Food is not a big consideration in these brief moments of escape and relaxation. As a divorcee I have no such family considerations and most of my fishing is at least an hour’s drive away so when I go fishing, I go fishing. It’s at least a day trip or sometimes a few days away. So food and drink are more prominent in my fishing. My fishing friends will tell you that all I’ve said so far is a load of rubbish and that I’m just obsessed with food and all things porky in particular. Whichever it is, food and drink form a major part of some of my greatest fishing experiences and memories.
A fishing lunch could be just a very simple affair. Quite often I’ll just throw a pork pie and a bar of chocolate or piece of fruit cake in the back pack, brew up a flask of coffee and off I go. From time to time I have the good fortune to fish with Steve Rhodes, fishing guide and Area Secretary for the Grayling Society in god's own country. Steve, or more likely his wife Barbara, always conjures up a simple lunch
involving a ham sandwich, a twix or piece of cake, an apple and always a pork pie. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve sat in the boat house at Malham Tarn or on the banks of the Aire and discussed the various merits of different butcher’s pork pies. My good friend Paul is, at the time of writing, doing an in-depth study on the various pork pies produced by the butchers of North Yorkshire. Results will be
published soon, along with some samples I hope. Personally I prefer a Melton Mowbray pork pie, heresy I know.
When I fish with Charles it’s become a tradition to have a bottle of ale with lunch. Just a few weeks ago we stood on a pretty Victorian brick footbridge looking down in to a deep pool on a stretch of the Lambourn, not far from home and reflected on the morning's sport while polishing off a Melton Mowbray pork pie and a pint of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord.
A couple of years back we were sitting on one of those functional, but not very pretty, bridges that farmers build across rivers from girders and old railway sleepers, enjoying bottle of West Berkshire Brewery’s Mr Chubb’s Lunchtime Bitter when a good hatch of olives started and the fish started to rise. This spurred us on to finish eating and drinking the last of the beer and get back in the Loddon. Sustained by our hearty lunch we had great sport that afternoon.
But lunch can be a much grander affair. Some years ago whilst living in the north of Scotland I became friends with a guide who managed the fishing on the River Alness. Roger was very generous and would invite me out from time to time to fish the waters on the Novar Estate. On one occasion, come lunch time, Roger produced tables and chairs from the back of his Discovery and a full scale barbecue ensued. I’ve never had a better barbecue, let alone by a river.
I had the good fortune to win a day for four rods on one of the private syndicate beats on the Lambourn last year. I invited Charles, and Denise and Shaun from the Wild Trout Trust. I provided the fishing if they would be good enough to provide the lunch. Before fishing commenced Bruce, the keeper, introduced us to the river and talked us through the work that he has carried out in recent years. He then asked if we would like a brew. As Bruce made the teas Denise appeared with pastries. So an hour was then spent wolfing down pastries and quaffing tea. This was very nice but you don’t get the chance to fish the Lambourn every day and I was itching to get fishing. It was agreed that two would go upstream and two down and that we would meet back at Bruce’s house for lunch and swap over. After a slow morning’s fishing I returned to find a full Mediterranean mezze spread out on the riverbank. Cold beers, hummus, pitta bread, cous cous salad, cold meats. The works. Charles had exceeded himself. After a long lunch we headed off in opposite directions with Denise reminding us to be back for afternoon tea. Afternoon tea?? But sure enough, after an even slower afternoon’s fishing, when I returned there was tea, scones, jam and cream. Maybe it was a good thing that the fishing was a bit slow that day, the food and good company certainly made up for it.
One of the benefits of guided days or trips is that you don’t need to worry about the food. A few years back I won a day’s fishing with Paul Proctor on the Derbyshire Wye. The day coincided with the Cressbrook & Litton club’s end of year Fishing Eating Drinking get together. Before we started fishing we were treated to a full breakfast cooked by the riverside, washed down with gallons of hot tea and sloe gin.
Paul hosted a trip to Bosnia some years back. We were sent off each morning, by the guest house owner Pedja, full of a traditional Bosnian breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages, breads and cheeses, all accompanied by a glass of Pedja’s home brewed Plivavisc. A heady plum brandy that came out at every opportunity. And you didn’t decline Pedja’s offer of Plivavisc, as well as the guest house owner he was the local
head of police and he had a certain look in his eye. At lunch time we would head to a local restaurant for a bite to eat. But one day we were taken to an old water mill where a huge pan of veal and peppers was being cooked over an open fire. Again there were cold beers and Plivavisc. The combination of warm summer sun, hearty food and alcohol soon had us enjoying an afternoon nap resting up against the hay
stacks.
Whilst in Poland fishing the San River portable barbecues would appear at lunchtime and a variety of sausages would be cooked for our enjoyment. The smoke wafting down across the river soon had us heading back to camp for a much needed snack. You have to admire the thought and effort that the guides put into this.
On a drift boat trip to the Trysil in Norway we were curious about all the boxes that were being loaded into the boat before we started the drift. Come lunchtime we pulled the boats up on the downstream end of a large island. The guides hauled the boxes up onto a promontory overlooking the broad delta below the island where they prepared a sumptuous lunch of summer pork cutlets with potatoes and salad, hot
coffee and cakes. The combination of the view, the smell of pine and the tangy pork chops made this the perfect fishing lunch. Unfortunately a hatch of Mayfly and the sight of a dimpling rise spreading out across the delta distracted us and we were soon back on the water.
Sometimes eating is an intrinsic part of the fishing. A special feature of a trip to Finnish Lapland was a trip to a lake famous for its nocturnal sedge hatches. We arrived late evening to get a look at the lake and to practice wading out in to the lake and casting. This was critical as when the sedge hatch it is pitch dark so you need to be able to function blind. Once we had got comfortable with the lay of the land we retreated to the bank to wait for the sun to set and the sedge to hatch. What else to do whilst we waited: drink beer and eat sausages, hot and charred straight from the coals. We blethered as we wolfed down the sausages. We did this twice during the week and on neither occasion did the sedge hatch. Still, there are worse ways to spend an evening.
Sometimes the fish are intrinsic to the eating. My fishing is almost entirely catch and release. Even when you are supposed to take your fish I often let them go. But one early morning on a short stretch of river that connected two lakes in Swedish Lapland my companion suggested we take a couple of fish for the pot. We had been fishing all night, not that there was any night that far north, having completely lost track of time. We hadn’t eaten in ages and there was nothing back at the camp. Problem was we hadn’t been catching much. It had been the wettest summer in living memory and the fishing was completely to pot. But as we approached the next channel we saw some fish rising tight off the tail of a small island. I had the first fish and the guide had the second. Two fat Char, fat as butter and like peas from a pod. We sped back up the lake in the boat eager to sate our hunger. We fried them in a little butter in an old iron pan as black as your father’s hat. I’ve never tasted better.
The evening meal, following a day on the river, is also part of a fishing trip. Be it one you prepare yourself or one that the fishing lodge or guest house provides. In Poland we had wild boar and veal, in Bosnia barbecued meats, in Scotland steaks and haggis. They are a great opportunity to chew the fat, check out how the other rods have done, share successful patterns or techniques and let off a little steam. And of course to have a drink or two or three. On our trip to Norway in 2013 we were self catering so it was also an opportunity to gauge how good the others cooking skills were. We ate like kings that week.
When I first started fly fishing I still smoked. The reward for catching the first fish of the day was to sit on a rock, drag on a cigarette and bathe in the glory of my success. When I gave up smoking there was no reward for that first fish so instead I now have a coffee. So I always have a flask of hot black coffee tucked in the side pocket of the back pack. It also comes in handy on those cold winter days trotting
for Grayling when the rod rings and your hands start to freeze. I’ve also discovered that holding a fly in the steam emanating from the mouth of the flask will revive a hackle or deer hair wing that’s been crushed or bent whilst in the fly box. A hot drink can be a Godsend when out early or late in the season. I always take a flask of coffee because I’ve never liked tea from a flask. Just doesn’t taste right. ButI do love a cup of hot sweet tea. So when I went out on the River Eden just before the Wild Trout Trust’s Annual Get Together at Appleby I was very pleased to see that Luke and Malcolm had brought a Kelly Kettle. There is something about the ritual of the Kelly Kettle that I love. The gathering of the tinder, kindling and wood; the lighting of the kettle; the relighting of the kettle; the lying on your belly blowing hard to get the thing going because there isn’t enough wind; the smoke in the your eyes; the spark burns on your fleece; the lingering smell of smoke that haunts you for the rest of the week; and finally that cup of tea, fresh and hot and reviving. It’s all worth it really.
Paul was given a Kelly Kettle for his birthday a few years back but had never got round to christening it. So despite the meagre baggage allowances he brought it with him on our trip to Norway in 2013. We hatched a plan to hike in to one of the lake outflows, a special ‘fly only’ section, to fish for the many grayling that reside there and take with us some food and cook it up by the river. Very Ray Mears we
thought. The fishing at this spot is awesome and the grayling prolific. We all prospered and Paul had a personal best. When the fishing is this good and can be difficult to drag yourself away, but we managed to. Simon was in charge of the fire, the pork chops and the sausages.
Charles and I assisted Simon whilst Paul decided it was time to christen the Kelly Kettle. It was the perfect spot to do so. I’ve never seen a man look as happy as Paul did as those first flames licked at the rim of the chimney or as the first steam started to billow from the spout.
That Kelly Kettle got a lot of use once its virginity was taken. By one lake it was almost totally fuelled by pine cones and moose droppings
As I write this I’m planning a fishing lunch. The Wild trout Trust auction lot I donate is coming up and lunch is to be provided. Decisions, decisions. Do I go plain and simple or do I make a splash. Hopefully, whatever I do, it will be part of the auction lot winner's happy fishing memories.
Kris Kent has been fly fishing and trotting for brown trout and grayling for over 20
years in the UK, Europe and Scandinavia. He is PR Officer for the Grayling Society
and helps out The Wild Trout Trust with their online communications and events.