My uncle kept a weathered Polaroid camera in his tackle box throughout the seventies. Every fishing trip, every catch, every meal — he'd snap a photo. This barramundi recipe comes from those coastal weekends, where the day's catch went straight from the boat to the pan. The lemon myrtle he'd forage from the bush, the butter sizzling in Mum's old cast iron. I can still see those sun-faded photos lined up on the kitchen windowsill, the fish gleaming golden in that characteristic Kodachrome warmth. This is simple cooking, the kind where freshness is the star and technique just helps it shine.