Are you feeling crabby?

WELL, aren’t we having some lovely weather?

I’ve almost forgotten what a cloud looks like, as we enjoy (or endure, delete as applicable) seemingly endless days of hot weather and blue skies.

Much as I love it up here on the Pennines, with those breathtaking views and clear air, sometimes I envy those who live close to the sea when the weather’s warm.

The idea of pacing down a baking hot beach and plunging into the waves is very tempting indeed. Or diving off a rock into a deep, gentlyswelling sea, the cold thrilling the senses.

I’m sure seaside life has more than its share of troubles – salt getting everywhere, dangerous storms and the high tides they bring, and, of course, the delights of the herring gull; greedy, messy and possessed of the most annoying call in the ornithological world – but the benefits are many.

You have beautiful views, charming towns, and perhaps most importantly access to the freshest fish and seafood in the country.

Growing up, our family had a cottage in Robin Hood’s Bay, and almost every holiday was spent there, bombing up and down the narrow alleyways, fishing in the beck, or taking trips out to Whitby and Scarborough, or the steam railway at Grosmont.

It was blissful, and some of the best days were when we stopped at the fishmongers on the way home.

Fresh fillets of fish were often on our supper menu; cod, sole, plaice or haddock, simply grilled with butter and black pepper – good fish requires little else – with boiled potatoes and some greens. Really fresh fish can satisfy so completely.

My folks were also partial to kippers, and a greasy brown paper parcel of Fortunes’ finest were always picked up and enjoyed with poached eggs at breakfast time.

I loved them then, but these days find I can’t abide the bones, so unless it’s filleted by a gifted surgeon I’m afraid my kippering days are over.

Occasionally, we would buy lobsters or, more often, crabs, huge fat things the size of sideplates, that wonderful shade of terracotta with evil-looking black claws.

I’ve never been really wowed by crab – I find it a little too rich a lot of the time, but it is my wife Tracy’s absolute favourite.

I’m charmed by the tale she tells of a Suffolk childhood memory of sitting on the kitchen floor on sheets of newspaper, cracking crabs open and scoffing the sweet flesh.

Years later, I watched her demolish a colossal crab at Rick Stein’s restaurant in Padstow, and I don’t think I’ve seen her happier than tackling that monster and extracting every morsel. So lovely.

Personally, I prefer crab when it’s involved in things, like pasta dishes, or puff pastry pasties, where the deep ‘umami’ is tempered a little, and today’s recipe for crabcakes is a great way of cooking fresh crab meat with a few sympathetic ingredients that help with that richness.

Often, fishcakes involve potato, but these are reliant on just the crab meat and some fresh breadcrumbs, making for a fresher, lighter dish.

On the side, we’re making an amazing crab ketchup, adapted from a recipe by chef Mark Sargeant, which is dynamite stuff.

Make plenty, and use the rest as a dip for crudités, or even just for dipping hot chips into. It’s terrific stuff, and a lovely way of using up the brown crab meat.