A pocket full of prawns.

Juicy & garlicky. Best when shared.

Well well well, the end of February very nearly passed me by and so did the monthly Shuck. But fear not - the night is young, there’s an ice cold Shima Saké Spritz in the fridge, and I have some perfect prawns nestled figuratively in my back pocket.

For those that don’t feel the same way, I imagine the deep pleasure I get from tucking into whole prawns probably seems a bit perverse. The visceral nature of ripping off the heads, juicy burgundy brains slowly rolling down your fingers, squeezing and then pulling off the tail, then unfurling the shell from the legs from underneath to the top - in that order, is almost as satisfying as devouring the succulent, sweet flesh afterwards. It’s messy, yes. But the reward? Worth it.

I first learnt the perfect prawn peeling technique under the supervision of my stepdad, Chris Parker. His memories of me as a young eater are mainly centered around there needing to be “no nasty bits” left on a chicken breast (I never cook with breasts now) and me refusing to share my individual plates of tapas at La Tasca. How things have changed! I doubt he knew that these small, simple lessons would stay with me. But there’s rarely a time I peel a prawn and don’t think of him and the technique he taught me. 

It’s funny to think I never used to share (although I am an only child), given that I now rarely cook anything that isn’t about sharing. At our house, you pull up a chair, roll up your sleeves and tuck in. From giant TBone steaks for four, tender roast chickens for six, to a Mexican feast for eight, piling in together is what it’s all about. A big plate of juicy Gambas al Ajillo is the perfect starter for this. I use the official Spanish name here, although I have absolutely no idea of the authenticity of this dish given that I never researched a recipe, instead opting to experiment over a few attempts by throwing in what I thought would deliver the flavours I love when eating this beautifully oily, bristlingly garlicky dish.

Head to the fishmongers (for any West London dwellers, Covent Garden Fishmongers on Turnham Green Terrace never disappoints), grab a few handfuls of the biggest whole prawns you can find and throw together this simple dish. Oh and line up the mints for the next day.

GARLIC PRAWNS (as a starter)

3-4 large king prawns per person

Good quality olive oil

Decent sherry (why not have a glass whilst you cook?)

4/5/6 garlic cloves (you do you)

Red chilli

Parsley

Freshly baked baguette (when I say “freshly baked”, I mean one of those baguettes you buy ready-made, but bake at home. Because this dish is all about simplicity.)

Grab a shallow cast iron casserole dish (second mention of Le Creuset here. I’m putting my stake in the ground right now that The Shuck exists entirely in the hope that one day they will sponsor me) and pour in some olive oil. You’re going to need enough to almost cover the prawns, so probably around 3cm deep. Then add a generous splash of decent sherry - the alcohol will cook off completely but the sweet and rich flavour left behind is what makes this dish. Finely slice as many garlic cloves as you’re choosing to use. These will become beautifully caramelised in the cooking process and are heavenly mopped up with that “freshly baked bread” you spent all morning slaving over. Do the same with your red chilli. Put the lid on and place into the pre-heated oven for about 15 minutes until the oil is searing hot and on the cusp of bubbling. Then throw in your prawns. You want to keep the heat in that oil so pop it quickly back into the oven and let the prawns cook in the oily, garlicky deliciousness. Depending on the size of those prawns it could be 10 minutes, it could be 20, so just keep an eye on them. You’ll know they’re cooked when they turn completely opaque and a lovely light pinkish colour.

Pull them out and throw in a heap of finely chopped parsley. Don’t be shy. Serve in the same dish you cooked them in, warm bread on the side for dunking.

And what to drink? A beautifully crisp and citrusy white wine. I’m throwing the Laylo Verdejo in the ring as the perfect partner.

Until next time, when Spring will surely have Sprung.

RVJ