Orkney Floyd on Britain and Ireland

It's incredible. This journey has ended. This is the last programme!

# Hallelujah!

# Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! #

The last programme! And my ship, the HMS Gastronaut, rusted, rotten, abandoned by the BBC!

Beached here on the Orkneys, where I will end up well and truly in the soup!

MUSIC: "Waltz In Black" The Stranglers

CHATTER AND LAUGHTER INAUDIBLE

MUSIC CONTINUES THROUGHOUT

To begin, an Orcadian chunky fish soup.

A simple affair of fresh halibut, salmon, scallops and sole.

Meanwhile, a trip round the islands is essential, for a sense of place.

There are more standing stones and ancient sites here than in any place its size in Northern Europe.

Here they came - from unknown Stone Age peoples to the Picts,

Celtic monks, Norsemen, Vikings, and Scots of all types -

from religious refugees to cattle thieves.

Even shipwrecked Spaniards from the Armada sought refuge here.

And in both World Wars, Scapa Flow was Britain's main naval base

with the rusting hulls deliberately placed to impede German submarines.

Orosius, the Roman travel writer,

was dead right in his 5th-century guide to Northern Europe

when he said that this place was brilliant for fresh scallops and wildflowers - especially in May.

WHISTLE Ha! Yes! What beautiful islands!

No wonder Orcadians don't really want to be considered Scottish. They're very proud of this place.

While you've been away, I've been cooking away busily.

My soup's been simmering delicately away.

I chopped up some onions, fried them in butter, added some vermouth and white wine and then fish stock.

I thickened it with beurre manie - flour and butter.

Added cream, simmered it a bit... And added my bits of fish.

I used scallops, salmon, turbot...

All these lovely expensive things because we like to exploit the BBC.

You don't have to go to those lengths.

You could use simple fish like cod and conger eel, for example

and still have a very fine dish indeed.

I think it's time to taste it.

It's very delicious, but it needs a little salt.

It's worthwhile to add flavourings

to delicate things like this at the end -

you get the best and the freshest flavour.

My director wanted a joke like, "I don't think this horse will work again." Rather tasteless.

This is, in fact, fish stock. WHINNY

And this is a bit too thick so I'll stir some stock in...

And it's ready to go. A quick slurp...

That's better. A silk handkerchief to wipe the drips off my thing...

And let's have a taste. Orcadian fish soup.

It's heavenly. It doesn't need to be smothered with parsley or herbs.

The subtle flavour of the fish from this wonderful cold sea is unimpaired, is delicious.

Off to Hoy, the roads being fairly otter-free.

David Hutchinson has been a TV cameraman, restaurateur, writer...

But he turned his back on the bright lights of Kirkwall

to find a more meaningful existence making crab soup -

Partan Bree, as the Scots call it.

In his designer kitchen, made from discarded fish-boxes, he explained.

Making the soup is a dawdle. A chunk of butter, melted...

You didn't rise to me calling this a Scottish soup. No, no, no.

It's very much an Orcadian thing. In the old days, the crofters only had about five hectares of land.

They all had little fishing boats and they went out in the bay.

And they fished for lobsters, which are very sought-after and expensive.

If they pulled up crabs in their lobster-pots, they threw them away.

But when times were hard, they would resort to gathering crabs.

By cooking it in butter and milk... The milk goes in at this stage. Or you can add it all at once.

A lot of people used to make it with the brown meat from the back,

but you can put white in.

The brown meat gives it colour and I think it has more flavour.

In it goes... What, the whole lot? The whole lot. If you're going to make soup, do it on a grand scale.

Our crew will be well-fed! Yes... And you just simmer it...

because it's been cooked already.

Now, Orkney... It's all Scotland, isn't it? No!

You'd never get an Orcadian admitting to be a Scot.

Our origins are Scandinavian.

A lot of people are surprised that we don't speak Gaelic.

And Orcadians too, when they go to concert parties with southerners,

and some splendid figure strolls on to the stage in a kilt,

and he starts warbling in a foreign language. It's as alien to Orcadians as Chinese or Greek.

And these stirring songs about "Granny's Hielan' Hame"...

It's been bull-dozed for time-share flats!

Do I detect a hint of bitterness? No, surely not! David wants for nothing!

He even brews his own electricity with a propeller on his roof!

But back to this brilliant soup. Once the crab is warmed in the milk, you add some fresh cream,

and thicken it with about four generous handfuls of oatmeal.

It takes five minutes. But don't serve it as a starter.

It's truly a meal in itself!

You cooked it so I'll serve it. Very good.

It does look splendid.

Thank you. Get your eating tackle around that, as they say.

What do you reckon? Oh, yes. Can I tell you something funny? I haven't made this for six years.

I made it every day in my restaurant and I was sick of it. It's supreme!

And this is quite extraordinary.

This is not a set-up shot. I arrive in these places working off a researcher's notes.

From the way the researcher wrote about you - lovely lady I'm sure...

"He's a kind of superannuated beach bum..." And I was expecting some laid-back kind of hippy.

But you haven't opted out, you've opted IN !

My grandmother used to say that the more you ran away from something, you ended up getting nearer to it.

Like when you're trying to avoid someone and you keep meeting them!

I don't think I've run away. When I came here, it was very quiet.

But now we've got the ferry, bus tours...

So it's not the quiet, remote place it used to be. Thank you.

In case anyone from the tax office is watching, this is NOT my yacht!

But what a fabulous place to be - against the backdrop of cliffs.

My diving chums are going to plunge over and raid the sea-bed for lobster and crayfish and ling.

But I've been to sea before, and they may come back with nothing!

So I've taken the precaution of preparing traditional Scotch broth.

I've got some mutton bones simmering away.

I've got the obligatory dried pulses - barley, lentils and peas.

Onions, leeks, carrots, turnips and celery.

All of that simmers for about two hours or until they come back.

OK, lads! Over the side!

The plumage is certainly fetching.

I told them not to come back if they don't catch anything!

Yaggh!

These guys were on holiday diving on wrecks.

And they weren't in the business of plundering the birthright of the regular fishermen, OK ?

Meanwhile, I put ashore on Shapinsay, to thump my tub about the production of British cheeses -

something that doesn't get as much support as it does in, say, France.

It's usually the director who decides where we go and what we do.

But when it comes to cheese, I stick my oar in.

We don't see enough of real farmhouse British cheese in shops.

So I couldn't resist visiting Minnie Russell,

whose cheese even the locals say is the best on the island.

Minnie, what is this contraption?

We had to put it on to frighten the sparrows away.

They came and pecked the cheese. Naughty sparrows! Can we go in?

Richard, don't let this put you off. You just follow us in, if I don't knock everything over...

Come in. Have a lovely look.

That is one woman's work, from a few cows on a windswept island...

Why are they different colours and shapes? Well, they mature.

That one there... Can you hold it up for Richard to see?

That's a beautiful, mature cheese.

It's not been good weather for drying them, but some of them...

So how old would this one be? Maybe three weeks.

Show me a very young one, perhaps. Well... That one's a bit younger.

It's not dry yet, you understand.

So you'd like to keep it for a week or so... Yes. Before we sell it.

What do you have this oatmeal for?

Yes, we rub them with oatmeal to give them a more authentic...

They used to keep them in meal in the old days, you know.

And people seem to like it.

Can we taste one of these, Minnie? Yes. Which one can we taste?

Well, I've got this one.

Oh, doesn't that look beautiful?

Fabulous. What sort of cows do you have for this? We have about five.

Would you like a bit? Oh, I'd love a bit. Yes, please!

That's not quite as dry as I thought at first, but never mind.

It's difficult to say... It's very cheesy, very creamy...

It smells and tastes of the sea, which isn't surprising,

considering the wind blows from the sea over the pastures to give the cheese its regional identity.

But back to our intrepid aquanauts, faithful hounds back from the hunt, bearing all sorts of gifts!

A plump crayfish, very tasty they are... And what else have they got?

A HUGE lobster!

A seven-pound lobster! At an inch a year... An enormous beast!

And a sack of scallops the size of carthorses' feet!

I know this is uncharacteristically pious of me, but we couldn't bring ourselves to cook this one.

Nobody could sacrifice such a fine beast to a trivial TV programme.

So it's going back to live and to breed.

It would have tasted really good!

The things we do for Greenpeace!

For our nautical cooking sketch we have this spacious galley.

You couldn't swing a seal in here!

Remember I made the Scotch broth -

chopped carrots, onions, leeks, barley, dried peas and mutton...

And a rich and warming brew it is!

That would cheer up any diver who'd been about 50 fathoms deep.

Now to get on with the job in hand.

They pulled up scallops, crayfish, a feast of stuff!

But what I've decided to do in this very tiny space

is to cook a fillet of fresh crayfish.

That is the freshest crayfish you will ever get to taste.

In a London restaurant, that piece alone would probably cost 18 quid.

But it might taste a little better than mine. Did I say that!?

We pop that into some melted butter. Whack the gas up...

We never rehearse these programmes.

You couldn't possibly rehearse in a space this size.

We add a little chopped bacon while the gas is up at frying speed,

and some little pieces of red pepper, plucked from the mast,

from the window-boxes, or porthole-boxes they grew in...

Let that sizzle around for a moment...

Sometimes we get letters saying,

"You don't always explain exactly what you're doing."

It is difficult on a small ship to give precise cookery lessons.

But if I can cook under these conditions, YOU'VE got no problems!

Right. Now, earlier, I made myself some fish stock

from some crayfish legs and white wine.

And I need that now. So, Richard, a little close-up, if I may.

And let that sizzle for a few moments, keeping a close eye on it.

And by the magic of television, we'll rejoin that at a later stage.

That's excellent. It's been cooking for about five or six minutes.

Now, for the stock, I chopped up some onions, added white wine, water and a few crayfish legs,

and simmered it about 45 minutes.

You could use a fish-head instead. We didn't happen to catch any fish.

That's the situation, little bit of juice, peppers, bacon.

The crayfish is slightly undercooked,

because it is so delicate you mustn't overcook it.

Now we add some leeks,

which have been cooked in salted boiling water and chopped fine.

Whack the gas up to maximum now.

This is a good stove, but I'm not familiar with it...

And then we simply take the piece of fish out so it doesn't overcook.

Put it on a plate while we finish off the sauce.

Put this down to minimum again. Help... Very difficult. There.

And...a little drop of good Orkney cream.

Check the seasoning, which I will do in a second...

Mmm! That is extremely delicious.

A little bit of pepper...

And...pure extravagance... sorry I'm wobbling, Richard...

I feel a bit sick, actually, Keith. He'll reply one of these days...

I did. Right. There's our sauce. I think that's OK.

Mm! It's a delicious sauce, a delicious fillet of crayfish.

Try and make it a little bit more decorative...

And I'm going to offer this to the captain, to the skipper.

Naturally, the divers who caught it will have to eat the Scotch broth!

There is a class structure.

We'll call this after the ship - Crayfish Sulair Sgorr.

Excellent! All right, is it? Delicious indeed.

Can you tell me the name of the ship again?

I can't pronounce it properly.

The name of the vessel is Sulair Sgorr. Sulair Sgorr.

You don't need to have had too many Scottish ones together muddled. What does it mean?

It means Gannet Rock in Gaelic.

But this is far better than gannet.

Great. That's it, I've done my bit. I'll do the washing up now.

Back to being the galley boy, as usual. OK. Thanks a bundle.

You wouldn't lash us up another one, would you, Keith?

Sure I will. Yes, thank you.

And some nice white wine as well? I forgot the wine!

Back on terra firma, it's time to go to St Margaret's Hope

and meet one of Orkney's rising stars, Alan Craigie.

Without any further ado,

a quick swig of this homebrew from... Your auntie or uncle makes this?

That's right. Cheers. Terrifying stuff. They said if I drank a whole glass of this

I would be carried out of this place.

But I don't think that's going to happen.

Talk me around these dishes. They look superb.

This one is poached turbot.

Poached in a fish stock with a wee touch of white wine

and finished off with a mild mustard grain sauce.

Looks delicious. Very good indeed.

This one is halibut.

It's poached in a wee bit of Noilly Prat and stuffed with some scallops

and finished off in a fresh chive sauce. Supreme.

You've been in Los Angeles, you've been around the world,

you've been cooking for kings, senators, princes.

Why on earth have you come back to this place?

Why? Well, I suppose you've always got to come back to where you belong,

and the location here is second to none.

When you can get food like this, it's well worth being here, I would say.

What was Los Angeles like? It was big, smoggy, dirty, smelly.

The food was disgusting.

Even their markets where you would go and buy what they term as...

Fair enough, the vegetables look beautiful, lovely big tomatoes,

massive strawberries.

They all look very presentable, but they had no taste at all.

Every thing seemed to be forced.

Even the fish, if you went for scallops they were all pre-poached

and the salmon you got, it was just crap.

Even the beef. My mate Ewan Donaldson was out there for a wee while on holiday,

he's a butcher, and he just couldn't believe the quality of the beef.

He said he couldn't sell it in his shop.

Although you get the sunshine and the sand and all the rest, you can't get food, that's for sure.

Alan, you are my newest and freshest chum, but this is my program,

hop it, mate, because I'm going to cook some soup, OK?

Thanks, that was superb. OK, cheers.

This is the beginning of the end sequence of the first phase

of my Cullen skink recipe.

Cullen is a village near... Somewhere or other in Scotland.

It's a fish soup. It is very simple.

Look at the ingredients very quickly.

Superb haddock, lightly smoked,

no nasty artificial flavourings or colourings in that.

A bit of flour, a few potatoes cut up, tatties as we call them here.

Onions, a bit of butter, a bit of cream,

local Orkney cream from the wonderful cows here.

And Alan does this in a modern way, I've pinched his recipe.

Rather than boiling it up in milk, he uses a real fish stock,

finishes it off with cream and makes

a modern but classic Scottish soup. OK? Off we go.

Thanks to the magic of television, the soup is almost ready

to add the haddock, but before I do, let me explain exactly what I did.

Melted some butter in the pan, added some sliced onions

until they were soft, stirred in some flour to make a roux,

poured in the fish stock to make the sauce which we have,

added the potatoes, let it simmer for 20 minutes.

Now time for the haddock.

In the haddock goes, in nice bite-sized pieces. No problem.

And that simmers for another 10 to 15 minutes

until the fish gets really tender.

In the meanwhile, let me show you this.

This is a bannock. What is a bannock?

It's a very simple Orkney griddle cake made from the locally-milled

barley flour, which is this, which in turn is mixed

with milk, cream of tartar and baking powder

until you have this sort of paste.

It's formed into a shape, whacked onto the pan

and cook either side for about five minutes.

The best way to enjoy one of those, if not with the Cullen skink soup,

is of course with a piece of Orkney cheese.

Wonderful, locally-made farmer's unpasteurised Orkney cheese.

It's absolutely superb.

Meanwhile, back at the soup, have a good luck,

because I think it's nearly OK. Needs a few more minutes to cook.

The best way to really enjoy that

and to get the full flavour of the Orkneys, from its legends,

its history, its mists of time,

is through a poem by the great Orcadian, George Mackay Brown.

Beach shineth in blackness After hard voyage

A hidden valley

Hills for bees to be hived Beasts kept

A cod-hungry boat

A comfort of fire in the crofts

we furled sail Set firm our feet

Stone laid against stone

Laboured long till ebb of light

Hungry men round a dead hearth

Dreamed I that darkness?

Of horse Harp, hallowed harvest?

That was good. I know we're not Omnibus, but that was a good poem.

Anyway, it is a cookery programme. Richard, deep into here.

Have a good sniff and a good look.

The pieces of haddock, the potato, the onions and stuff like that.

All I need to finish the soup off, add a little cream, not too much,

and a bit of fresh parsley,

and then this is the moment in the program when I invite our guest.

Richard, where are you? We haven't got much time left.

This is the moment when I invite our guest who has leant us his place to give us his opinion on this.

Usual rules apply - "yes, it's brilliant"

and you stay in the program.

Anything less firm than that and of course we edit you out.

You don't mind that, do you?

So you've got about 30 seconds to taste this,

and it's either "yes" or "yes definitely."

Tell me what you think. What will he do? Will he be edited out?

Yes, definitely. Lovely. It's all right, is it?

Is that Orkney on a plate in fact?

Without a doubt.

I'm very proud of it. Beautiful.

Thanks for teaching me the recipe. My pleasure.

The thing is, what I also do on these programs,

I learn a great deal.

Although I'm carrying my flag saying, "eat simple, eat fresh."

It isn't without these people who can cook really sophisticated meals

that I learn these very simple things from.

Simple food, well cooked, with love and with heart is the best.

Isn't that? That's it, without a doubt. Brilliant.

The island of Stronsay is not the fishing centre it once was.

But, happily, tradition dies hard.

Certainly, the tradition of running to the pub will never die.

In the garden, the works raven guards the landlord's smokery.

"The appliance of science," quoth the raven.

A born again refrigerator - another example of Orcadian practicality.

But this evening is special. Folk come from far and near,

drawn to the social event of the week.

It is, of course, the ceilidh held at the village hall.

John is the local witch-doctor. He doesn't mind if I call him that.

All that evil liquid goes into this "bridescog",

and it gets passed round and you all have a little slurp!

How's it doing? Not bad. Is this drink unique to Stronsay?

Oh, yes. Look, John, I'm taking an executive decision.

He tells me it isn't quite ready. I don't think I care any more!

How much of this should I drink in any one day, in any one go?

My God, it's like an alcoholic curry!

It's brilliant. I'm now going for a little reel!

SCOTTISH COUNTRY DANCE MUSIC

Stronsay's brew is top secret,

but I can reveal that it contains home-brewed beer,

pepper, sugar, rum and whisky.

They don't take any prisoners,

and thank God there isn't a ceilidh EVERY night in high summer!

The nights only last about ten minutes!

Day turns to night and back again as swiftly as a dram slips down.

MUSIC PLAYS IN DISTANCE

Thank you!

It's a brilliant way to end a brilliant series!

We've champed all over the country from Belfast to Somerset,

Scotland for gigot and langoustines, Norfolk for its dumplings,

and Orkney for its bridescog, which is absolutely amazing!

I used to be a highly-paid TV presenter,

until I discovered this!

Subtitles by BBC Scotland - 1988