There is something about Cornwall that gets under the skin and hooks you for life. I'm not sure when the association with St Agnes in Cornwall started on my father's side of the family, but it felt as if I'd grown up with strong Cornish connections. When I was in my early twenties, I met my future husband Ben John there and when my sons, Zach and Henry, inherited their father's childhood home (a converted pilchard factory in a small Cornish fishing village), I thought it would be a good idea to record some of the recipes and memories associated with this unusual place.

Ben was four when the family arrived from France to set up home in 'Mowzal', as the village name is pronounced, and he told colourful childhood stories of growing up in a small fishing village. In those days Mousehole was a working village, with cobblers, carpenters, masons, net- and crab-pot-makers, a butcher and baker, and the harbour was full of big fishing boats. The war years and rationing imposed limitations, but Betty, my sons' grandmother, taught herself to cook from the markets of Paris and knew how to make much out of little and bring variety to the abundance of fresh fish and crabs at her disposal. There are photographs of the boys' great-grandfather, the notorious bohemian early twentieth-century painter Augustus John, in the harbour. Ben has vivid memories of dreading the command to sit for a painting and then escaping to the rocks for a crab picnic and swim at Dicky Daniel's Cove.

I can't exactly remember the first time Ben brought me to Mousehole. I do recall the journey, though, and how odd it seemed to be going past the turn-off for St Agnes, which was 'my' part of Cornwall where I had spent so many childhood holidays. At least six people greeted Ben as we drove the short distance to the house. 'You!' someone yelled and 'All right, boy?' said another. I expect they wondered who I was because, looking in my direction, someone said, 'Hello, maid, where you to with Ben banger?' In Cornwall, particularly Mousehole, the local dialect is alive and flourishing. One other turn of phrase I particularly like is 'proper job'. It can be applied to anything from a particularly wellmade Cornish pasty to a good catch of mackerel. It also refers to a job well done or a clever idea.

Mousehole couldn't have been more different from the Cornwall I knew. This was a proper village centred round a pretty little harbour with fishing boats and seagulls. As we made our way along the narrow, twisting road, past the flower-decked, granite fishermen's cottages, and I absorbed the timeless sights and sounds of Mousehole for the first time, I had no inkling what an important part in my life this lovely, typical, small Cornish village was destined to play. I didn't realise it then, but the Fish Store was about to change my understanding of cooking seafood. I would learn how to prepare and cook a munificence of mackerel and monkfish, red mullet and soles, sea bass, squid and scallops and, most memorably, crab.

By the time Zach was born in 1978, the charms of the Fish Store and village life had entered my blood.I developed my own way of dealing with the generous supplies of seafood that came our way from local fishermen and began to introduce my own cooking style into the house. Ben's mother Betty also had a huge effect on me. She liked responding to the seasons and adapting her cooking to what was available and who she had to feed. This style of cooking, where everyone mucks in and the preparation is just as convival as the eating, is the essence of The Fish Store cookbook.

At the far end of the village, past the Methodist chapel, the road forks right up Raginnis Hill or left along St Clement's Terrace. The last building on the left in the terrace is the Fish Store. It stands foursquare on the corner and was built in 1899 for storing and processing pilchards. It had fallen into disuse when, in 1939, Betty and Edwin John, bought it for £300, £600 less than it cost to build 40-odd years before. There are about half a dozen fish stores in varying states of repair dotted around the village and they date back to a time when Mousehole was a thriving fishing port. Other similar buildings were built as net stores, where nets were made, repaired and hung out to dry.

It required a huge leap of imagination to spot the domestic potential of a smelly old fish store. It is a handsome, big, two-storey building made of large granite slabs with no structural internal walls.Originally, the entrance to the upstairs area where the fish were pressed and packed was through a trapdoor from the store down below and you can clearly see the hole where the floorboards were replaced.

Only one thick pine pillar seems to support the entire roof, although another is hidden in a wall in what is now the bathroom. It's not obvious when you're inside the Fish Store, but when you look down on it from, say, Raginnis Hill, you can see that the roof has a huge inversion in the middle. This was for collecting water for washing the fish. It passed down a central drainpipe hidden in the outside wall of the sitting room. When it's raining hard, the rainwater splashing through the middle of the house is a reminder of the past.

These days, the Fish Store is one big open-plan living space with three large windows looking out to sea where we watch the fishing boats chugging by. I love the place whatever the weather and whatever the time of year, but when the sun streams through the open front door and there is the promise of a crab picnic and fresh fish for supper, there really is nowhere I would rather be.

Shellfish at the Fish Store

Crab claws with aioli; serves 4

Serve the claws on a platter with the bowl of aïoli in the middle, a pile of crusty toast and a few lemon wedges to squeeze over. If the claws are raw, drop them into a big pan of generously salted boiling water. Boil for 10 minutes. Drain and cool before cracking.

For the aïoli:
6 garlic cloves
300ml olive oil salt and pepper
2 large egg yolks
1 tsp smooth Dijon mustard
12 crab claws
3 lemons and extra lemon juice

First make the aïoli. Ensure all ingredients are at room temperature. Peel and finely chop the garlic. Sprinkle with a little salt and use the flat of a knife to work the garlic to a smooth, juicy paste. Place the egg yolks, mustard and a generous seasoning of salt and pepper in a mixing bowl. Beat with a whisk until thick. Stir in the garlic paste and add the oil in a thin stream, beating continuously, adding a little lemon juice and then more oil until all is used up and the mayonnaise is thick and glossy. Crack the crab claws lightly without crushing the meat. Pile the claws on to a platter.

Mussels with garlic butter; serves 4

This is a bit of a palaver to make - although virtually everything can be done in advance - but well worth the effort. Serve as a snack or first course with crusty bread.

1kg cleaned mussels
handful parsley
3 garlic cloves
75g butter

Cook the mussels, covered, with half a cup of water over a high heat, shaking the pan a couple of times, until they are all opened. Drain in a colander and leave to cool.

Meanwhile, peel and finely chop the garlic. Then finely chop the parsley leaves. Chop the two together and then mash them into the butter with a fork. Remove the empty shell from each mussel and put a teaspoon of garlic butter on each mussel. Arrange in a grill pan and flash under a pre-heated grill for a few seconds until the butter is bubbling hot. Serve immediately.

Monkfish, mackerel, mullet and skate recipes from the Fish Store

Roast monkfish tail; serves 4

4 monkfish tail fillets, approx 250g each
2 garlic cloves
4 tbsp olive oil
4 medium onions, approx 250g
salt and pepper
best olive oil for serving
lemon wedges to serve

Pre-heat the oven to 400 °F / 200 °C / gas mark 6 and remove any trace of the slimy membrane covering the monkfish.

Peel the garlic and slice very thinly in rounds. Using a small sharp knife, make several slashes in the monkfish, as if you were preparing to garlic a lamb joint.

Post the garlic in the slashes. Use one tablespoon of the oil and smear it all over the fish. Set aside.

Generously smear a baking tin with some of the oil. Peel and halve the onions and slice thinly. Spread them out in the baking tray to make a bed for the monkfish and lay the fillets on top. Season the fish with salt and pepper and splash with the remaining olive oil. Roast in the oven for 25 minutes until the fish is cooked through and the onions tender and browned slightly at the edges.

Give the monkfish tails and their juicy onion goo a generous seasoning of sea salt and black pepper and a swirl of your best olive oil before serving with the lemon wedges.

Butterflied mackerel with smoked paprika and garlic; serves 4

3 garlic cloves
1 medium bunch flat-leaf parsley
3 tbsp olive oil
4 portion-size mackerel, gutted and butterflied or filleted
salt and pepper
2 tbsp sweet-smoked Spanish paprika
1 lemon

Pre-heat the oven to 425 °F / 220 ° C / gas mark 7.

Peel and finely chop the garlic. Roughly chop the parsley. Place a large roasting tin big enough to accommodate the four butterflied mackerel on the hob over a high heat.

Drizzle a little oil over the dish and slide in the fish. Season with salt and pepper and place in the oven for about 10 minutes until cooked through.

Remove, transfer to warmed plates and sprinkle the chopped garlic, parsley and paprika liberally over the top.

Serve with lemon wedges and something simple like braised spinach and boiled potatoes with olive oil.

Snotched red mullet with garlic butter; serves 4

4 red mullet, scaled, trimmed, gutted
4 big garlic cloves
Salt
100g soft butter
squeeze of a lemon
1 lemon, to serve

Pre-heat the oven to 400 °F / 200 °C / gas mark 6. Cut two or three diagonal slashes on either side of the fish, slicing down the bone. Rinse the fish and pat dry with kitchen paper.

Peel and finely chop the garlic. Sprinkle with a little salt and use the flat of a knife to work to a juicy paste. Place the butter in a bowl. Add the garlic paste and a squeeze of lemon and beat.

Spread the garlic butter in the cavity and slashes on both sides of the fish. Line a baking tray with tinfoil and lay out the fish. Cook in the oven for 15-20 minutes until just cooked. Serve the fish whole with a lemon wedge.

Skate with black butter; serves 4

One quantity of court bouillon is made from slicing an onion, a stick of celery, a carrot, and adding a bay leaf, 1 tsp salt, 1 litre of cold water and 1 tbsp of white wine vinegar, then simmering for 20 minutes.

2 x 450g skate wings, skinned
175g butter
50ml red wine vinegar
1 tbsp finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 tbsp capers in vinegar

Divide the two wings in half lengthways and slip them into the simmering court bouillon.

Return to the boil and simmer for 15 minutes or until cooked through at the thickest part of the wing. Drain the fish on kitchen paper, place on warmed plates and keep warm.

Melt the butter in a frying pan, swirling the pan as the butter foams and turns a deep brown with a nutty smell.

Add the vinegar, swirling the pan again, and let the mixture boil for a few seconds, then add the parsley and capers. Cook for a few more seconds, then spoon the sauce over the fish.

The Fish Store by Lindsey Bareham is published by Michael Joseph at £20. To order a copy for £15.99 with free UK postage & packing go to observer.co.uk/bookshop or call 0870 836 0885