Food, fire and good company
22.11.24
•3 min read
22.11.24
•3 min read
Fire transforms everything. Welsh chef William Rhys Hamer—who traded global kitchens for the solitary landscapes of North Uist—unfolds a story of seasonal gatherings where wine, wild ingredients, and flickering flames come together.
Beside the Fire by William Rhys Hamer from Wild Kabn Kitchen
Photography by Bill Baillie
As the leaves fall and the wind sweeps across the waters of Loch Fyne, the nights grow colder and darker, and my urge to make fires intensifies. I think this is true for most of us; our primal connection with glowing embers during the winter months becomes a source of comfort. Fire offers protection and a welcome distraction from the colder days ahead.
Cooking over fire takes many forms, whether it's a small campfire by the water with friends and a handful of ingredients or a day-long fire in preparation for a feast around a long table with family and friends. Yet, one thing remains constant—fire brings us closer together, as it has for thousands of years.
On a cold, autumn day in November, I eagerly encouraged friends to join me by the loch with the promise of warmth, wine, and, if they were lucky, a pumpkin baked in the embers. Wine secured the deal, and we left the comforts of home for the shore. Loch Fyne is Scotland's longest sea loch, and beside it stands Kabn Company, where we could temporarily escape the wind with a glass of red wine as the day drew to a close.
Ingredients in Autumn are my favourite. They're hearty, resilient, and beautiful when cooked over fire. Only a handful of squashes can withstand the intensity and heat of the flames; most give way halfway through the process and turn into a stringy mess. Crown Prince Pumpkins, however, hold their shape and flavour no matter how they're cooked. I believe their stature lies in the name.
Wild game is an obscure delight, and many people say they rarely sit down to eat it. It's a shame that we're so focused on a small selection of farmed meats when there are endless culinary opportunities with wild alternatives. Birds, such as partridge, represent the colder months here in Scotland, and it's something I get excited about as winter approaches.
There is something uniquely beautiful about an ingredient that has been submerged in embers. There's an element of the unknown: How long will it take? Is it cooked yet? Patience is required, and we use the time to discuss important culinary matters—wine in hand.
As the night began to draw closer, I lit another fire, closer to the water this time. Mussels are a representation of the Scottish shorefront and cooking them over a hot plancha is the best way to enjoy them.
With late afternoon came an offshore breeze. Leaves danced in the sky around us as we made our way to our cabin, where we enjoyed the tranquillity of the surrounding landscape.
Fires encourage togetherness and have been bringing people side by side for thousands of years. Preparing large feasts is always a special occasion. The atmosphere grows louder as the evening progresses, and the food soon becomes a distant memory as wine continues to make the rounds into the early hours of the morning.
I'm from South Wales. Over the past 10 years, I've travelled the world, exploring diverse cultures and cuisines while learning the best culinary practices. These experiences continue to inspire my work today. Three years ago, I moved to the Isle of North Uist in the Outer Hebrides. Here, amidst the solitary landscape, I began cooking with fire. Since then, I've dedicated myself to this method, creating wild dining experiences and leading the outdoor cooking movement in Scotland.