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Don’t come the raw prawn with me

TAPAS WEEK continues apace, albeit a relaxed one, which is as it should be. We’ve had meat (chorizo in red wine) and vegetables (onion and potato in a tortilla española), so now let’s turn to the sea.

In the part of Glasgow where I was brought up (of which Billy Connolly once remarked, with his usual unerring accuracy, that the rats wore boiler suits) seafood was what you did immediately before eatfood; any delay and you risked the possibility of nofood.

Prawns were small, defrosted pink things devoid of flavour, smothered in a vile emulsion of sour mayonnaise and tomato ketchup, placed on a bed of tasteless, watery, shredded green stuff and served in a poncy glass topped with a sprinkling of some unidentifiable reddish brown powder; in posh restaurants this muck invariably preceded a burnt steak and Black Forest Gateau.

Then I went to the West Highlands, and discovered that a prawn wasn’t pink at all; it was a sort of blueish grey, with a head and eyes and tentacly bits. I know this because I watched them being sold at the quayside, still squirming and wriggling, and loaded into refrigerated trucks bound for countries where they would be appreciated, such as France and Spain.

Later, English people came and taught us Jocks about gold-dust local produce and seafood restaurants and . . . oh, don’t get me started, I’ll go off on one.

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Prawns, sweet, chillies, fiery, marriage, heaven, in, made; rearrange the preceding words into a classic tapas dish.

GAMBAS AL PIL-PIL

Prep: 10mins

Cook: 5mins

Serves 4

500g raw king prawn tails

1 tblsp olive oil

Salt

4 fat garlic cloves, crushed and finely chopped

1 tsp ground paprika

3 small red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped

250ml dry white wine

Chopped fresh parsley to serve

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METHOD

Peel the prawns, and remove the dark vein that runs down the back (it contains stuff that even the prawn no longer wants, so you certainly don’t). Try to keep the little forked bit of shell at the end of the tail intact; it’s great for eating with your fingers. Season the prawns with salt. Heat the oil in a pan over a fierce heat until it’s shimmering on top (I use an ancient, blackened cast-iron frying pan and take it to the table while the prawns are still sizzling, which is always a bit of a showstopper, but if you don’t have one just use an ordinary frying pan and transfer the prawns later to the ubiquitous earthenware tapas bowls). Add the prawns, garlic, paprika and chillies to the pan and stir it all round, cooking till the prawns turn pink. Add the wine, and when it all bubbles up, sprinkle with loads of chopped parsley and serve with large chunks of coarse country bread to mop up the sauce.

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