Bernard the Gurnard

Bernard (or, more likely, Bernards) arrived earlier in the week, ready filleted.

We covered him with cornmeal and fried him in a place somewhere between deep and shallow.

Here he is with some slightly lame salad (made of things from dark recesses of fridge) dressed with something limey and the end of my mayonnaise (which I need to stop making, as I am clearly an addict).




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