The secret recipe behind the turbot dish of the moment.

Instagram rules in the London restaurant scene. Take Hide in Mayfair – the new venture from Mr Oliver Dabbous – for example. This gargantuan enterprise is illuminated with lights that are specifically designed to eradicate pesky shadows that may impede a precious iPhone image. And you will find chargers in drawers at tables lest you (god forbid!) run out of battery. If a perfectly focused shot of a dish doesn’t appear on your Story, did you even eat it?

It’s not just the big hitters that pander to the platform, of course. Restaurants big and small often invite “influencers” to their opening nights before critics so that pictures of their prize dishes are instantly served up to thousands of serotonin-depleted followers through a pleasing, sepia-tinged filter. Who needs opinions or words when you’ve got a nicely cropped, “like”-laden image?

One such dish that has been doing the rounds on Instagram in the past month or so is the turbot at Mr Tomos Parry’s Shoreditch restaurant Brat – where they slow cook this meaty fish on a low heat, a technique inspired by the port town of Getaria in the Basque Country. This is no social media flash in the pan, mind. Forget social media, the broadsheet critics have all been effusive in broadly rave reviews. Mr Jay Rayner called it “the pinnacle of a meal with many high points”. Mr Giles Coren said it is, “done as perfectly as such a fish can be. Never have I seen the edges so crisp (making the bones edible) with the flesh so firm and yet the gelatinous parts so sweet and sticky on one animal. You simply cannot do a turbot this well at home.”

Unless you quiz the chef, of course. In an attempt to learn more (and perhaps recreate it in our own kitchen) we spoke to Mr Parry, below, about his signature dish, and asked him how he gets it just so.

“I called my restaurant Brat after I had been researching our relationship with fish. It’s an old colloquial term for turbot,” says Mr Parry. “I think it originates in Northumberland. We are named after turbot because it’s very symbolic to the way we cook.

“The port town of Getaria which inspired the dish is quite fascinating. It’s about half an hour away from San Sebastián. I absolutely love the Basque culture, and the climate. It’s strangely similar to Wales, where I’m from. It’s off the mainland, and they have a great sense of pride. The cooking is focused and very simple. They have a strong sense of local tradition that isn’t influenced by current food trends.

“In this small town, they grill all the fish – a tradition that goes back hundreds of years. It’s in the Bay of Biscay, so there were lots of ships going on expeditions and the sailors developed a technique for cooking the fish over charocal on board and it moved onto land.

“We get our turbot from Cornwall and Devon. I love working with suppliers and fishermen. There is a fair amount of working in the sourcing, but it is worth it as it inspires me and the produce tastes so much better.

“Once you’ve lit a fire under a grill, let it die down slowly. You want embers that don’t give away much smoke – they create a glowing heat which doesn’t impart a burn-y, grilled flavor.

“It’s not conventional grilling. We cook it very very slowly on a low heat. If you want to get technical, you want the fish to be cooking at 55ºC. It’s quite different to what people think about barbequing. If the average turbot is about 1.2-1.3 kg, cook it for about 35-40 minutes on both sides and continually rotate it.

“We also spray it throughout. We fill a water spray with vinaigrette then spray it as it grills. In Getaria they have a secret recipe for their seasoning. They call it Lourdes water. They make a fish stock, a bit of olive oil and some vinegar. It’s not too strong and it caramelizes the fish. A bit like when you baste some meat in a pan with butter. Cooking it slowly and constantly rotating means the fish really roasts and takes on a subtle smokey flavour. Also, a beautiful moment happens when the fat from the turbot combines with the vinaigrette on the plate and creates the famous and delicious “pil-pil” sauce that you spoon over the roasted turbot flesh.

“The stickiness you get on the turbot is the unique collagen breaking down and turning into sticky goodness. That happens at about 55ºC. If it’s too high, it’ll burn. If it’s too low, the fat won’t break down. It’s very similar to cooking a pork belly. Too high – it dries out; too low – it turns into rubber.”

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