Field Journal

In Conversation with Will Rhys Hamer
Photography by Bill Baillie // Written by Daniel Neilson
Produced in Partnership with Blundstone UK

A meal is never just about the food. It’s about place, people, and the stories shared around the fire. On the shores of Kilbride Bay, chef Will Rhys Hamer and photographer Bill Baillie capture that connection, where flame and friendship meet creativity and craft.

A meal is never solely about the food. Yes, the ingredients are fundamental, as are the combinations in the dish. The method of cooking – in this case, over fire – is a defining characteristic. The skill with which it’s made brings all these elements together. This is what chefs learn in schools and kitchens: combinations and techniques. They make the dish, but they do not make the meal.

The meal is about place, about context, about the environment in which it’s eaten – lighting, setting, company – but most of all it’s about communion; it’s about the people it’s shared with, and the place in which it’s consumed. A memorable meal is rarely just about the food. Will Rhys Hamer understands this implicitly.

As the tide swept out of Kilbride Bay, on the far south-west of the Cowal Peninsula, and the sun began to dip, Will was building a fire among the channels and preparing two dishes. First was a ‘beach fondue’ with Scottish cheeses and a splash of wine; the second, pan-fried venison liver with onions and harissa on sourdough.

‘I went deer stalking last week and got a calf. I kept the heart, the liver, and all the bits and bobs people don’t tend to enjoy,’ Will said. ‘I don’t plan too far ahead what I’m going to cook, but I’ll cook what’s in season. If I can incorporate some kind of local ingredient that people aren’t as interested in eating, like wild game, and showcase it, that’s an added bonus.’

Alongside Will was a creative collaborator, photographer Bill Baillie. Together, they are producing a series of photographs that showcase and celebrate the creative collaboration between Blundstone and Filson.

As with all great collaborations, there’s a tension. Not a negative one, but one that inspires. There is Will’s instinct to build a fire, and Bill’s desire to chase the light. ‘I’m always thinking about where I want to cook, how it feels,’ Will says. ‘Bill’s always thinking about the landscape and the mountains behind. He doesn’t know what the light’s going to be; I don’t know what I’ll be cooking until the day before. But as long as we’re both doing what we love doing, the end result is usually something pretty beautiful.

‘On that evening, I saw the sand and thought, I’ll light the fire here because it’s dry,’ Bill said, ‘No, wait until the tide’s out – you’ll have this vast expanse of glistening sand and pools of water.’ I wasn’t sure we could even get a fire going on wet sand. But he was right. It was beautiful. Arran was looking incredible, and probably the only spot in Argyll where it wasn’t raining. The gods were looking down on us.’

Fire and Friendship

The collaboration began a few years ago when Baillie turned up at one of Will’s supper clubs. ‘We ended up shooting on top of a mountain overlooking Loch Fyne, and from there we just started this friendship – a relationship where we were both thriving in what we love doing the most.’

They don’t plan much. ‘We find it really hard to,’ Will admitted. ‘We go through this process of getting over-excited and calling each other, basically naming most places in Scotland. Then we just go.’

Improvisation is part of the process – two people winging it, creating something that sits between adventure and food. ‘We inspire each other in an unobvious way. It was refreshing for him, doing more stuff based on his own interests, and for me to have someone so creative beside me on all these quests into the wilderness.’

From the Kitchen to the Coast

The Wilder Kitchen grew out of a moment of idle wonder on a remote Hebridean beach. ‘I moved to North Uist about four years ago,’ Will said. ‘It’s a vast, solitary place to be.’

He’d gone there after time spent in Michelin-starred kitchens around Europe. Later, while working for a hunting lodge, he spent his days off exploring the island, fishing and cooking over charcoal. One afternoon, as he grilled fish on the sand, a group of swimmers appeared out of the surf with parcels of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. ‘I thought, I could’ve cooked them dinner right here if I had the ingredients – and a bottle of wine.’

So he did. A few days later he posted on Instagram: £25 cash, supper on the beach, bring nothing but yourself. ‘I set a table, made a fire, and much to my surprise, people came. We’d sit on the sand, eat langoustine, and chat. It just seemed to take off. From that moment, I was like, right – this is what I want to do. Forget the kitchen. I’m doing this.’

Since then, he’s hosted open-fire suppers across Scotland, from the Inner Hebrides to the mainland, and now further afield – particularly in Scandinavia. Each meal is shaped by the place, the weather, and whatever ingredients he can gather nearby. Partridge instead of chicken. Venison cooked in sight of the hills where the deer roam. Dishes that belong to their surroundings. And it’s always over fire.Fire naturally brings people together. Food brings people together. Wine brings people together.

‘If you can couple adventure with really good open-fire food, cross that bridge between campfire cooking and something a couple of steps beyond that, you’re onto something. People chip in, they help, they talk. It does create a memorable feeling.’

The future for Will and the Wilder Kitchen is open ended, ready for collaborations. There are plans for an island retreat, kayaking trips in the Finnish archipelago, and a documentary series that connects creative people – artists, stalkers, makers – through conversation and flame. ‘It’s about connecting the viewer to their story. The fire’s just woven in.’ The first, The Sound of Jura, can be found on his Instagram.

Bill and Will tucked into the food before piling everything back into a wheelbarrow, as the last scent of woodsmoke drifted down the beach. The dishes were excellent, the meal was perfect.