Herring Bughlama
Late summer has its own kind of stillness here in the southwest.
The ocean is as warm as it gets, the wind softer, and the days stretch long enough to make room for both work and rest. We linger outside more, especially in the mornings, before the heat settles in.
Living by the sea is one of the quiet joys of life here. The coastline is as rugged as it is beautiful, all clean air and long stretches of sand that feel untouched. The water can be wild or glassy depending on the day, but it is always pristine. There is something grounding about being close to it, something that steadies you and reminds you to pay attention to the natural patterns of our nature.
I often think about how lucky I am to have the best of both worlds, the salt and wildness of the coast, and the slower, rooted life we have built on the farm.
Each year around this time, we head to our fishing spot at South Beach. It is another tradition now. We climb out onto the giant rock that juts over the sea, its sides covered in sharp barnacles. When the swell rolls in, saltwater splashes over our feet and sprays up into the air, soaking us from the knees up. The kids squeal while Troy calls for them to stay back, reminding them again about the barnacles. It is not deep there, but those barnacles are razor-sharp.
By the time the sun climbs high, we usually have a bucket full of herring. Once we are home, Troy scales and guts the fish while I make a quick salad to go with our lunch. Most of the fish get filleted and pan-fried, often served with salad or tucked into soft taco shells. But I always ask him to leave a few whole. I either stuff them and bake them wrapped in foil, or cook them as bughlama, which means "steaming" in Azerbaijani.
In Azerbaijan, bughlama is the ultimate summer dish. It is often made with lamb, beef, sturgeon, or whatever else is on hand. But oily fish like herring work beautifully. I layer them in a heavy base pan with sliced onions, tomatoes, sweet and hot peppers, lemon, and whatever herbs we have. Everything cooks slowly under a tight lid, gently steaming in its own juices. It's simple, unfussy, and deeply fragrant, full of summer flavour.
We eat it with crusty sourdough to mop up the sauce. It is the kind of dish that doesn’t really ask much from you, other than time and a quiet appetite after a salty morning by the sea.
Herring Bughlama
At the end of summer, when herring come through in scores along the coast, this is one of my favourite ways to cook them. In Azerbaijan, bughlama is most often made with lamb, beef, or sturgeon, but oily fish like herring work just as well. They cook gently with onions, tomatoes, peppers, lemon, and herbs until tender and fragrant, full of the warmth and brightness of summer.
Serves 4
Ingredients
80ml clarified butter
1 brown onion, peeled and sliced
4 herring, gutted and scaled (long enough to fit into a 30cm pan)
3 vine-ripened tomatoes, peeled and sliced into 1cm rings
4 sweet banana peppers or any sweet green pepper
2 green hot chillies ( I used jalapeño and
1 lemon, sliced, skin and white pith removed
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked pepper
1/2 cup roughly chopped flat leaf parsley and dill
Method
Melt 2 tablespoons of clarified butter in a heavy-based pan over low heat. Remove from the heat and tilt the pan to coat the base evenly.
Arrange the onion slices in a layer at the bottom of the pan. Place the herring fillets on top, then tuck in the tomato slices, peppers, chillies, and lemon wedges so everything fits snugly.
Drizzle the remaining clarified butter over the top. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.
Cover the pan and cook over medium heat for about 20 minutes, until the fish is cooked through and the vegetables are tender.
Scatter the herbs over the fish and serve with plenty of crusty bread to mop up the sauce.
