I'm cruising the River Severn, looking for something to eat.
And, in that, I'm not alone,
because I'm surrounded by millions of seasonal visitors doing the same thing.
You can't see them, they're only that long.
I hope to head a few of them off downstream.
'They better hope I don't, or they'll be in hot water.'
'Or possibly hot fat - I haven't decided yet.'
'Eels breed half a mile underwater in the Sargasso Sea in the North Atlantic.'
'The larvae form a ball, which drifts with the Gulf Stream towards Europe.'
'When they get here they are free-swimming elvers.'
'Their every effort is focused on getting to fresh water.'
'Every year, they swim past the fiercely guarded tump of elverman Hartley Everett.'
What would happen if you found somebody fishing on your tump?
We had a bit of a fracas last year.
There was a bit of a dust-up.
That was the first night we went.
But things have calmed down.
We shall see what's here today.
You don't just scoop it, you peg it down?
And the net has to be on the bottom.
'It seemed optimistic to be fishing just a yard of such a big river,
but Hartley explained that when the tide turns, elvers hug the bank to avoid being swept out to sea.'
What is the strategy?
I'm making sure we don't get any escapees.
Building a dam? That's right.
There is a song about this.
Yeah. We won't sing it today. No, definitely not.
Get him up against the headboard.
'Setting up an elver net isn't as easy as Hartley makes it look.'
That's a good 'un.
'The elvers' urge to head upstream
makes these square, shallow nets surprisingly effective.'
They'll just swim against the net.
They won't swim out again?
They do later in the year. They get wiser.
An elver that big is stupid, an elver that big is cleverer?
Yes. They're 10% higher then.
10% cleverer? Yeah, than a cabbage.
I reckon it's time for a... Turn him or you'll tip 'em out.
Wash him as well.
Give it a rinse?
You want to tip him up or they'll be out. See?
Right.
Hmm. Oh, I have got one!
I've got one. One little titch. There he goes.
Wriggly little thing. Which makes it one-nil.
There could be a slight improvement.
You've got loads ? It's not surprising, you're in front of my net
None.
I think that's one-nil, Hartley.
Wait till it gets darker. Things will look up.
'I certainly hoped so.'
'If I split a single elver with Hartley, I think I'd end up with less than the lion's share.'
'He explained that eels are chiefly nocturnal
and the real elver run begins after dark.'
'He's an incredible little creature'
'Comes several thousand miles from the Sargasso Sea.'
'He's three years when he gets here' 'One of the great journeys.'
'Certainly is.'
'Like a man walking to the moon.'
'It's a gigantic journey for them.'
'And at the end of it all they end up in your net.'
'Yes. They end up in the frying pan'
'Hartley's well-positioned net left me with scarce pickings.'
'In the small hours I slunk back to the bain-marie
and let him pursue the elvers alone.'
'But he did promise to bring me breakfast.'
Morning. Good morning, Hugh.
How did you get on after I left? We stayed till daylight.
I thought you were catching elvers, not pilfering ostrich eggs.
I managed to burgle those ostrich eggs last night.
Is this part of your recipe?
Yes.
You keep your eye off the eggs. You have done well.
I must have caught a few of those.
You got six, didn't you?
'Elvers have a protective slime, or vomp,
so they need a thorough rinsing and drying before cooking.'
We're trying to get rid of their slime?
That's right.
That's it.
'I challenged Hartley to a cook-off.'
'He prepared them the traditional Gloucestershire way, with local bacon and a fried goose egg,
while I did it the Spanish way, with garlic, chilli flakes
and rock salt.'
You want to get the bleeders dead quickly.
It's disconcerting having them wriggling all over.
Here he is.
That's the most impressive fried egg I've ever seen.
There's one other thing that goes in.
Oh!
Just to pep it up a bit.
Think I should turn this ostrich egg, Hugh.
Neatly done. Yep.
There you go. That's for you.
Right. And you can take yours.
And we'll see...
I'm aiming for the perfect mouthful. A bit of bacon...
We'll see what these are like. ..a bit of egg, plenty of eels.
Mmm. Very nice.
You want to... Absolutely lovely. You want to do the vice versa?
Yep. Right. A sample of yours.
What you've done here, Hartley, is so good.
I hope that was interesting.
Mmm. You like it that way?
These are really lovely. Look at that.
This is one of the best catch-and-cooks I've ever done.
Good.
Can I have a bit more of yours?
You certainly can. One more swap.
'After such a hefty breakfast a long bike ride seemed as good a way as any to work off elver calories.'
In the days before bicycles and canals, transport options for ambitious travellers were limited.
Most people made do with their feet.
The most dedicated band of pedestrians were medieval pilgrims.
The fuel for their journey was the spirit of the Lord.
I've got my pilgrim's hat on and I'm in the mood for self-improvement.
Naturally, I'm on my way to church.
'I should be there just in time for the lesson.'
'Today's lesson is no biblical text, but a rendezvous at a Herefordshire pilgrim site,
with expert on hedgerow history and folklore Roger Worsley.'
There are so many things you can eat.
You can make teas and spreads and soups and so on.
Even peasants knew the names and uses of about 300 different plants.
Every plant was supposed to carry a sign from God on it.
The doctrine of signatures, posh people called it.
It meant there was a sign on every plant saying what it was good for.
Look at these lesser celandines.
These sunlight flowers open when the sun shines on them.
The Saxons who introduced this plant said, "If these plants can see,
they might help us to see."
We're both short-sighted. Another thing you need to do is dig some up.
Get out your implements and see what's underneath.
This plant has more than one use. There we go. Now, then...
Ah, look. You see?
These white bulbils, the Saxons called them,
they looked - they had strong imaginations - like piles.
The other name of this was pilewort.
That's what piles look like? Glad I know!
They'd make a medicine out of this.
Which end it was applied to we won't go into.
Living on a damp boat, you can't be too careful.
I'll stash some of this for my medicine cabinet.
Good.
This little tiny trickle
is going to go on to become a tributary of the Severn shortly.
So if I head downstream I'd go to my boat? Indeed you would.
This stuff looks... Watch it!
For heaven's sake, don't touch that.
This is hemlock water dropwort.
Looks like celery or parsley.
It could be chervil.
You never find chervil growing with its feet in water.
You'll never find this one growing along the hedge where chervil does.
One innocent leaf would have you at the undertaker's by the end of the day.
They are extremely poisonous.
'We searched for less lethal spring greens.'
'We found abundant wild garlic, hairy bittercress,
primroses and dandelion leaves.'
'While Roger composed a 15th century pilgrim's hedgerow salad,
I brought my pedal-fanned, charcoal-fuelled gastrobike up to omelette-cooking speed.'
What do you think of my gastrobike?
Should I call it "cuisine-cyclette"? Who knows?
See? Fizz, fizz.
Oh, it works. A good omelette heat?
Whack it all in.
Watch the edges.
What else can you cook besides omelettes?
Underneath here is a fully fledged barbie.
I don't think there's much we couldn't cook on this.
What do you think the pilgrims would have thought of this contraption?
They'd have burnt you as a witch.
Barbecued, straightaway, without benefit of clergy, as they say.
I think we're ready to sit down and enjoy our pilgrim's feast.
Good. Wild garlic omelette.
Accompanied by your beautiful hedgerow salad.
A la lanterne, or whatever it is one says.
Cheers.
Mmm.
Not too runny for you?
Good and biscuity.
The garlic has punched right through.
Lovely. What you're supposed to do with this...
There's a bit of chervil - Roman introduction -
dip it in there, and down it goes.
What's that one? That's a pennywort - an aphrodisiac.
Ah! Right.
How romantic.
That's a very good dressing. Some honey?
Honey, dill mustard, wine vinegar.
If you hadn't been there, I'd have ended up with hemlock water dropwort.
You'd certainly have ended up, yes. You saved my life.
'Arriving in the Midlands, you're reminded why the canals were built.'
As a major route for the raw materials of the Industrial Revolution.
'They're an interesting habitat, but they weren't meant to be kind to nature.'
'On the contrary, they were about harnessing and dominating nature
'for the benefit of man.'
Today, the canal's given over largely to leisure.
One leisure pursuit is also about the domination of nature.
Fish thrive in the canals, and so do anglers.
One fish in this part of the canal has become notorious.
The zander is a voracious predator at the top of the canal food chain.
Well, almost at the top.
Just because you're a goldfish, you think that makes you special?
As far as I'm concerned, you're just small fish.
Which means very good bait for catching big fish.
'In pursuit of zander, and armed with colourful live bait,
I enlisted the help of angler Wayne Northall.'
All right, Jack, Wayne. How are you?
Any luck? Nothing at all. Not a bite.
Are you surprised?
Not particularly, no.
What bait are you using to catch your zander?
I thought I'd give these a go.
Oh, smashing!
I've been keeping them on board.
It'd be wrong to use those.
You're only supposed to use fish caught out of the water.
You could transfer a disease into the water. Right.
That's a strict rule, is it? Yeah. That's a strict rule.
'Wayne bought the life of my goldfish with a dead and smelly sprat,
which he assured me was a good bait for zander.'
'After this good deed, his luck changed.'
Come to Wayne.
Gudgeon.
You're gonna catch my supper at this rate.
HE LAUGHS
Gudgeon is absolutely prime. But how many do you need for a meal?
Thirty-odd. I think that was the Lone Ranger.
You've just caught the last fish?!
I don't know.
The zander's not your favourite fish, then?
I hate the bloody things. Why is that?
They decimate the fish stocks. They breed that quick,
they eat everything up to 4oz, so there'll be no breeding fish left
How did they all get here?
Rumour has it, some blokes from Coventry introduced them in 1974,
because of a grievance against Coventry Angling Club.
They've decimated the canal system's fish stocks.
Savaging everything in the canal? It's that bad?
That's exactly what they're doing. Yeah.
They are the elite predator.
So you fish for zander out of hatred rather than love of the sport?
That's right, yeah. Your bung's gone. Look.
Here we go.
You want that netting? I'll need some help in a minute.
That fish is 400 times larger than that gudgeon.
Couldn't you be more excited about it?
I'll be excited in a minute.
I'll know where he's going.
Sorry. Done this before(?)
A bit out of practice.
Wow! One zander!
What a beast!
Doesn't give you any pleasure? Not at all.
Doubly hooked. God, they've got hard mouths.
Give the ugly beast here - I'll show you how to do that.
'I left Wayne waging war against zander to see if I could catch one of my own further down the canal.'
'Then I happened on a scene that would've brought a smile even to Wayne's face.'
'The canal authorities were electric fishing to cull the zander.'
You've got 240 volts going out in a V in front of the boat?
It's 240 volts and about 13 amps.
The little ones come up first?
Some of them do, yeah.
Wow! Well spotted.
Fishing the easy way. That's right.
'Techno fishing is my cup of tea,
especially when I get to keep all the zander I want.'
'The next day, I was faced with the challenge of what to do with my zander surplus.'
'When you don't have a freezer, one solution can be found in the woods.'
'I found the forester was felling pine.'
'He pointed me to what I was really after -
a nice pile of oak sawdust.'
Apart from gutting them, there's another important job with these chaps.
These are tough creatures with an armour plating of thick scales.
Before we can do any cooking, we've got to get rid of those.
Especially if my smoke is going to penetrate to give a nice oaky, smoky flavour.
'Salt rubbed into the fish helps to preserve it.'
'A long, cool smoke - six or seven hours at 35 degrees centigrade -
will do the rest.'
'While the zander was smoking I headed up the canal
on a reckless mission to convert Wayne to the joys of zander cuisine.'
I'm so flush with these fabulous fish that I've devoted a whole one just to making my stock.
I've also allowed myself a big one for my main dish,
which requires a couple of prime fillets.
It's a good fish to fillet, because it's thick and round-bodied.
Who in their right mind would go fishing, catch one of these,
throw it back, and then go home for microwaved frozen lasagne?
On the other hand, who in their right mind
would be cooking alfresco on a day like this,
with frozen fingers and a blunt knife,
trying to get a fillet off this slippery beast?
There we go.
'An old-fashioned cast-iron grill pan is a great cooking tool for fish.'
'A sprinkling of fennel seeds and a few charred bay leaves should infuse
'the zander with plenty of flavour.'
'A few minutes on each side is all it takes.'
'The sauce is a simple reduction of fish stock and birch-sap wine,
spiked with wild juniper berries -
'a challenge for the forager, since they only ripen every two years.'
'A good dollop of double cream thickens the sauce.'
'Such presentation is intended to counteract the hideous weather.'
'But it hardly makes up for a no-show from my expected guest.'
Well, that...is sensationally good.
And Wayne'll just have to take my word for it.
I was hoping he'd join me for my little feast,
and he said he'd try.
Then he muttered something about karaoke night at the working men's club.
'I guess some people haven't got the stomach for the outdoor life.'
KARAOKE VERSION OF "AMERICAN PIE"