#INTHESHELL
Seared Scallops w/ Herb Butter
Paula Poundstone and Michael Pollan once had a memorable public radio confrontation (which may seem like an oxymoron). In terms of pure wit, it wasn’t a fair fight: she’s got it in spades. At the center of it all was the twinkie, which she called a household staple, and he labeled a chemical abomination. Relenting, he allowed as to it possibly being a (very) occasional indulgence. “Indulgence? I eat it every day. What do you mean indulgence?”
While I assume she doesn’t stock her pantry with sacks of twinkies, the discussion (if you can call it that) brought up the concept of indulgence. For some, it’s playing tennis occasionally despite the doc’s comment that your knee might explode. As this is a food blog, let’s stick to the topic.
Usually it means eating something crappy. Like half a pie or a bucket of fried chicken. Back on track: cooking. If you’re gonna indulge, why head to McDonald’s? Fry up a good cheeseburger. Instead of KFC, make your own fried chicken and mashed potatoes. It makes perfect sense: you get creative satisfaction as well as, yes, a superior product. Much of the McDonald’s indulgence factor is wrapped up in the instant satisfaction. But indulgence is about what goes in your body, not how fast it gets there.
There’s a place near us, which I’ve referenced many times; it serves one of the world’s greatest dishes listed simply as “sizzling pork fat.” Yeah. It’s not crackling or any of that nonsense. What comes to the table is, in fact, a small fiery hot cast iron dish full of popping and sizzling cubes of actual fat. Enough said. I’ll take this over fried chicken any day.
The point is, if you’re going to treat yourself, go for the real thing: the actual, unadulterated item, swollen with nothing but lovely fat. And so we come to butter. You could toss a chunk (knob?) or it in a sauce or use it to saute something. But, as our sizzling pork fat proves, messing with pure butter is like hiding a beautiful flower in an overcomplicated bouquet of junk. Let it shine; in other words, stick it on the plate and let it melt before your very eyes. I’m thinking hot pancakes, a warm biscuit, a steak topped with a thick compound butter coin, or, a personal favorite, a bucket of steamers accompanied by a jug of clarified butter for dipping. Butter as party dip.
Not surprisingly, scallops are popular in a nation of meat eaters. Otherwise you wouldn’t see them soaring through the air in a spray of bogus lemon juice in a Red Lobster ad. Properly cooked, it’s everything you might want in a protein: crisp exterior, soft interior, sweet, and rich. Sound like a steak? Why not do the same and top it with a disc of compound butter?
In the end you’re left with a scallop and melting butter. I can’t think of any better use for a scallop. Or butter.
(NOTE: Obviously this is a simple recipe, but it works fine as is. However, it’s also a good building block. Surround the scallop with clams; toss in pasta, or use the butter in any number of ways. I scored the scallop, a neat trick I saw somewhere: cut a tic-tac-toe pattern on one side. The butter melts into the crevices like an oceanic English muffin.)
Scallops w/ Herb Butter
Serves 2 as an appetizer
3 tablespoons minced herbs (tarragon, parsley, cilantro)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
6 large sea scallops, scored (see NOTE)
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
- Combine the butter and herbs. Season with salt. Place in center of a piece of plastic wrap and roll into a tight cylinder. Refrigerate until hard.
- When ready to cook, season scallops on both sides, heat the oil in a medium pan over medium high heat until very hot. Gently add the scallops, pressing with your fingers to ensure contact with the pan. Let scallops cook about 2 minutes or until browned, flip and cook the same way.
- Serve hot topped with a thin disc of the herb butter.
Sauteed Squid w/ Chili Oil and Fried Garlic
So I discovered the world’s greatest condiment. It comes in a little jar and it’s called “chili oil with crunchy garlic”, which you have to admit sounds pretty awesome. Like many of the best condiments, this one is Asian (Japanese to be precise): I found it on a shelf at Pearl River. In a store otherwise full of schlock I plucked out the sole worthwhile item.
The label is entirely accurate, a virtue not to be taken lightly. Slipping in my spoon was like dipping a toe through a wave receding back into the ocean: halfway through the liquid, you’re met by a crunchy wall. My new little bottle was packed-packed!-half-full of, as advertised, crisp little bits of fried garlic. So I started doing something uncharacteristic: eating oil. On closer examination, the bits were a lovely mixture of fried garlic and a few other things equally delicious, the identity of which was frustratingly mysterious. I thought I sensed some dried fish in there, but the label said chilies and, oddly, almonds.
A proper condiment is like popcorn in a movie theater: without it, the main event is palatable but bland. For a condiment to attain pantheon status, its absence must render the central item irrelevant and pointless. A plate of fries with no ketchup, for instance. Munching fried garlic, chilies, and almonds; I couldn’t imagine a life without my new friend-in-a-little-bottle.
This stuff can be drizzled on noodles, meats, fish, chicken, added to stews, stir-fries, over toasted bread for a sandwich or a dipping sauce, etc. A bowl of noodles coated with the oil sounded particularly delicious, but too easy. I came up with squid, sliced thinly and tossed with the oil, scallions, black sesame seeds, and salt.
Ketchup is powerful; just ask the fry. But this stuff has a far wider range. In a forthcoming post I’ll attempt to recreate it in the kitchen, but for now I’m happy to enjoy my discovery and spread the word.
Oh yeah, it’s called Taberu Rayu.
(NOTE: Unless your squid/pan size ration is precise, you’ll probably end up with some excess squid liquid, in which case just drain it off in a colander. In general you shouldn’t crowd pans, but I don’t like a lot of extra dirty dishes. Also, to serve as an hors d’oeuvre we plated the squid in Chinese spoons. I’m not sure of any other practical way to do it. Maybe a little glass and a tiny fork or something. On a plate in lettuce cups would work. Finally, like steak tartare this is a season to taste kind of recipe. Just don’t add too much stuff; you’ll overwhelm the squid.)
Sauteed Squid in Chile Oil with Fried Garlic
Serves 2 as an appetizer, 4 as an hors d’oeuvre
2 tablespoons oil
1/2 pound squid sliced very thinly, including tentacles
¼ cup Taberu Rayu (chili oil w/ fried garlic)
2 tablespoons black sesame seeds or roasted sesame seeds
4 tablespoons thinly sliced scallions, whites only
salt
- Heat the oil to smoking over high heat in a large pan. Add the squid and sauté for 45 seconds. Remove to a colander (SEE NOTE) to drain excess liquid.
- Add squid to a bowl and toss with remaining ingredients. Season with the salt and serve either on separate plates as an appetizer or small spoons as an hors d’oeuvre. You could simply set the bowl in the middle of the table with chopsticks.
Crisp Tilapia w/ Picada
I’m slightly uncomfortable with ubiquity. Not the word, rather things I see all the time. Like the college classmate who seems to be everywhere, knows your name, shakes your hand and scoots off, ready for his next encounter; the doctor whose ads plaster every subway car; beef with broccoli. Or, in this case, tilapia.
Whether the market is fully stocked with every type of meat, fish, and fowl, or the same shelves are as bare as a bachelor’s cupboard, the one constant (ubiquitous?) is tilapia. And the visual never varies, as if the long thin fillet was joined by a bunch of rivets and screws in a Ford factory. The whole thing makes me a bit suspicious.
I had in mind a picada, a sort of Spanish pesto, which, while pretty assertive, would be too mild for most meats, but perfect for fish, especially a white one such as cod. Alas, it was one of those tilapia days in our frustrating local market, and so, sighing, I brought some home prepared for the worst.
The tale has a happy ending, or I wouldn’t be writing this post. While relatively tasteless, tilapia is idiot proof, a rare virtue in the world of seafood cookery. The firm flesh doesn’t fall apart in a hot pan, resulting in a nice, crisp piece of fish.
Actually, to me, fried fish means sandwich, and this dish would probably be better between the bread or bun. And since fish sandwich is the home of the ubiquitous fish, tilapia would seem to fit the bill.
(NOTE: the picada texture is flexible. To make a little scoop it should be firmer. More nuts thicken the mixture. If you want a sauce, thin it out. Garlic is to taste.)
Tilapia w/ Picada
Serves 4
2 medium tomatoes, cored, halved
1 red pepper
1 bulb garlic cloves, peeled
2 tablespoons blanched almonds
2 tablespoons parsley, chopped
olive oil
salt and pepper
4 fillets tilapia, 6 oz each
- Preheat oven to 350. Coat a small pan with a few tablespoons olive oil. Add tomatoes, cut side up, season with salt and pepper and drizzle over another few tablespoons. Roast until slightly browned and wrinkled, about an hour.
- Meanwhile, place the pepper over a high flame, turning occasionally until charred, place in a bowl, cover with plastic wrap to steam. When cool, peel off skin and core. Reserve.
- Add garlic to a small pot, cover with olive oil by about ½ inch and place over a very low flame. Heat about ½ hour. The garlic should be very lightly golden, completely tender but not dark. Make sure the oil only barely bubbles. Remove from heat.
- When tomatoes are done, add to a food processor (small if you have), along with the nuts and half the red pepper. Add a few tablespoons of the garlic oil. Puree until mixture is smooth but the nuts are slightly intact to provide a bit of crunch. Add parsley, pulse to incorporate. Add 2 or 3 of the confit garlic cloves and pulse. Season and turn into a bowl. (SEE NOTE)
- For the fish, heat a large sauté pan with ¼ cup olive oil over high heat. Season fish on both sides. When nearly smoking, lay in gently and brown on both sides, about 4 minutes total.
- To serve, divide fish, top with about a tablespoon of picada.
Lime and Vodka Granita w/ Oysters
SeaGrub: a celebration of seafood, and how to cook the stuff. Or in this case, eat it raw.
The two of us sat at the table in a medium-nice Chelsea restaurant, scribbling on a small notebook. The place (Shaffer City, since closed), had a massive collection of oysters, listed on a separate, paperback-sized special menu. The mission was to sift through these bivalves and form a list of favorites. After the second dozen or so, we put down our pens and simply enjoyed the experience: sending back piles of empty shells, squeezed lemon quarters, and bottles of cheap beer.
Some people love oysters; others hate them. This is for the former group; I don’t have the energy to analyze the incomprehensible. It must be a texture, rather than a taste thing, for it’s impossible to dislike an entire selection of oysters; they’re that discrete.
Oysters are as complex as Mormon genealogy. They may appear similar: about the same size, knobby and a struggle to snap open, but the flavor within can be extraordinarily different. Some are large, pillowy, mild bites; some are smaller and briny; others combine both characteristics with a twist.
To enjoy them you need a sample, and, since Shaffer has closed, occasionally we go to Aquagrill, with its equally vast selection. A sample from this Sunday:
Blue Point Oysters - Connecticut
Gold Creek Oysters - Washington
Piper’s Point Oysters - P.E.I.
Sisters Point Oysters – Washington
Chefs Creek Oysters - British Columbia
Chincoteague Oysters – Virginia
Canada Cup Oysters - P.E.I.
Indian Creek Oysters - P.E.I.
Pebble Beach Oysters - Washington
Willapa Bay Oysters - Washington
Beavertail Oysters - Rhode Island
Hog Neck Bay Oysters - New York
La St. Simon Oysters - New Brunswick
Little Creek Oysters - Washington
Ninigret Cup Oysters - Rhode Island
Potters Moon Oysters - Rhode Island
Royal Miyagi Oysters - British Columbia
Umami Oysters - Rhode Island
Wellfleet Oysters – Massachusetts
Beau Soleil Oysters - New Brunswick
First Light Oysters - Massachusetts
Montauk Pearl Oysters - New York
Cotuit Oysters - Massachusetts
Effingham Inlet Oysters - British Columbia
Komoguay Oysters - British Columbia
What seems an intimidating selection is simplified by a brainlessly basic option of accompaniments, i.e. a squeeze of lemon. Cocktail sauce, and peppery mignonette are also acceptable, the idea being sharp acid matches the cold, briny meat.
Which is why sometimes oysters are topped with a small scoop of granita, an icy, slushy concoction, in this case made with an tart juice such as grapefruit or lime. We made a batch of lime-vodka granita and popped it in a shot glass, with an excellent result. Vodka, of course, freezes less readily than water, requiring a bit of patience and a less than perfect granita, but a perfect little shot of limy booze.
Alcohol tends to provoke a more adventurous palate. A good reason to set a tray of oysters and vodka granita before your friendly oyster hater, and see what happens.
Oysters w/ Lime Granita Shots
Serves 2 (about to be drunk people)
½ cup lime juice
½ cup vodka
a dozen mixed oysters on ice
lime zest, grated
- Combine the lime juice and vodka in a shallow bowl and freeze for about a day. It should be slushy. Stir in a bit of zest
- Serve the granita in shot glasses along with the oysters over ice.
Garam Masala Cedar Plank Salmon
SeaGrub: an occasional series of guest posts from bloggers we admire, celebrating seafood cookery. It’s a wild world underwater, teeming with edible life. Here’s how to cook ‘em up. This week’s post is from Katie Webster from www.healthyseasonalrecipes.com
I wonder if Henry Ford was thinking about grilled salmon when he said, “failure is the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.” I wonder this because grilling salmon, though tempting, too often results in a less-than-desirable outcome. Some may call it failure even.
You can’t blame us for trying. I know I have to grill salmon many a time. Who doesn’t love an excuse to get out of the kitchen to make dinner? You get to be out in the great outdoors, enjoy the evening sunshine, drink a Corona… It’s romantic in an almost mythical way.
But in reality, more often that not, I end up frustrated when the fish sticks to the grill. At first it seems to be going fine, and then it comes time to flip the fish over. Half the time, the fish fiercely clings to the grill grates and then shreds off, leaving half of your dinner behind. Even worse, if you’re like me, you bought the more sustainable option, Alaskan salmon. That means you paid a pretty penny for that soon-to-be charred-onto-the-grill-grate fish. It is enough to make a cook a little gun shy about trying that again.
That’s why I love cooking salmon on a cedar plank. The fish never sticks, and it still gets a nice smoky flavor from the grill. Plus it gets a boost of cedar smokiness from the plank itself. I like that because I am kind of a flavor hound. Even though the ingredients here are simple: fish, spice and sugar. The technique of grilling on the plank makes it even more flavorful. Plus the dishes, or lack there of, are a snap.
Garam Masala Cedar Plank Salmon (from www.healthyseasonalrecipes.com)
Active time: 25 minutes. Total time: 2 hours 25 minutes.
1 food-grade cedar plank, see note*
4 teaspoons dark brown sugar
2 teaspoons garam masala
1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 ½ pounds boneless salmon filet, preferably wild sockeye
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
1. Soak cedar plank in a large rimmed baking sheet of water 2 to 3 hours, turning once or twice, or according to package instructions. Remove plank from the water and pat dry with a towel.
2. Preheat grill to medium-high heat. Grill plank on one side to char slightly, 2 to 4 minutes. Remove to a baking sheet, charred side-up. Plank will be hot. Stir sugar and garam masala together in a small dish. Brush about half of the olive oil over the charred side of the plank. Place the salmon skin-side-down on the plank. Pull pinbones from the salmon with needle-nose-pliers if necessary. Brush the remaining oil over the fish. Sprinkle with salt. Pat the brown sugar mixture over the fish.
3. Reduce heat to medium and carefully transfer the plank and salmon to the grill. Cover the grill, and cook until the fish is almost opaque all the way through and the sugar mixture is melted and caramelized, 10 to 12 minutes for medium well.
Note* Available at most hardware stores, or online http://www.amazon.com/Outset-KWP10-Kingsford-Cedar-Planks/dp/B001AH8Q7Q
Corned Beef Sandwich the Right Way
There are several hurdles for the novice dry sausage maker: preservatives, patience, and precision. Fermented, dry sausages (salamis, sopppressata, etc.) take a long time, and, more to the point, must be hung in enclosed areas varying in temperature and humidity. It’s like trying to perfect a golf swing inside a tiny room. And so we made corned beef.
Homemade corned beef is simple and satisfying in the manner of any successful project: brine and simmer a brisket. The sole sticking point being the use of aforementioned preservatives, which are optional anyway, since grey corned beef is as tasty as pink corned beef. But a few tablespoons of pink salt profoundly boost one’s pride.
Any respectable corned beef lover knows that it belongs in one place: between two slices of good rye bread. To fry it up in a pan as hash or serve hot in a stew is a betrayal of all that’s pure and right in the world. Back to the sandwich, for once I have no opinion, as both are great: 1.) mustard (cole slaw optional) 2.) as a Reuben-warm, under a blanket of melted Swiss, sauerkraut and a smear of Russian dressing.
I tend to order (in this case, serve at home) corned beef with mustard because it’s about ten times lighter. Also, a good Reuben is tough to find. Often it’s transformed into an open sandwich slop of corned beef obscured under a pile of cheese. Katz’s, where you’d expect to find the genuine article, delivers a phone book thick stack of meat between bread soggy from an equally heavy hand with the Russian dressing. It’s a clumsy, careless product.
Which is why it makes sense to corn your own beef (if that’s a verb). You can craft your sandwich according to personal taste. You don’t need an exclusive cut of brisket, but because it’s critical to have good rye, I’d recommend sourcing that first. Or baking, if you know about that stuff. Then you’ve got a truly homemade sandwich.
(NOTE: they use ground ginger, which I loathe.)
Corned Beef Sandwich w/ Mustard (from Ruhlman and Polcyn’s Charcuterie)
Makes a lot of sandwiches
1 gallon water
2 cups salt
½ cup sugar
5 teaspoons pink salt
3 garlic cloves, minced or crushed
4 tablespoons Pickling Spice (see below) (halved-otherwise you’re stuck with a
dusty can of excess pickling spice)
One 5-pound brisket
Deli or Dijon mustard
Good, seeded Rye
1. Combine everything except the brisket and 2 tablespoons of the pickling spice (not the bread or mustard if I really need to say that) in a pot, bring to a simmer, stir to dissolve, cool to room temperature and refrigerate until cold.
2. Place brisket in brine (we used a giant ziplock-two actually) for 4 or 5 days. Remove, rinse under cold water, add to a big pot, cover with a lot of water and the remaining 2 tablespoons of pickling spice. Simmer 3 hours. Remove from heat, let cool in liquid. Lift out and refrigerate. Slice and make a sandwich.
Pickling Spice
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
1 tablespoon mustard seeds
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 tablespoon red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon allspice berries
1 tablespoon ground mace
1 cinnamon stick
5 bay leaves
1 tablespoon cloves
1. Mix in a bowl. How’s that?
Baked Eggs w/ Shrimp and Capers
The French may be annoyingly provincial (to be polite) about food, but I must say, they’re damn good with eggs. Short of personally laying one, French folks can do virtually everything with an egg: hollandaise, béarnaise, béchamel, omelets, soufflés, crepes, custards, crème anglaise, and so on.
Given that eggs are extremely difficult to get right, it’s an impressive legacy, much of which gets lost over here, where generally we throw them into a hot pan or a pot of boiling water. If you’re looking to expand your repertoire, Michel Roux’s book Eggs is useful to have around; each chapter begins with a master recipe for that section (pasta/soufflés/etc.), followed by several simple yet pleasing dishes.
We chose eggs en cocotte because of our love for a runny egg, and if you don’t overcook it, a baked egg is the best of all runny egg preparations: unctuous and slightly runny, heightened with a little cream and an assortment of flavorings. The white, usually an unfortunate, tough flap, virtually dissolves in this rich bath.
We tweaked the recipe a bit, chopping up a few medium shrimp instead of using the 48 tiny sweet shrimp called for. I’m grateful for French egg cookery, but making me bust my butt looking for teeny tiny shrimp? That’s cocky.
Baked Eggs w/ Shrimp and Capers (adapted from Eggs, by Michel Roux)
Serves 4
8 medium shrimp, chopped in ¼ inch pieces, tail blanched and reserved
2 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
4 tablespoons heavy cream
24 capers
salt and pepper
- Preheat oven to 325
- Brush 4 ramekins (about 3 inches high and 1 inch deep) with butter on bottoms and sides. Season with salt and pepper. Carefully tip an egg into each mold, drizzle cream over the egg whites, then scatter the shrimp and capers over the yolks. Bake about 10 minutes and serve garnished with a tail.
Tagliatelle Nero w/ Seafood
To be strapped to a chair bolted inside a giant tube has repercussions on the mind, which is why long flights can be such a strain. On the trip back from Zurich, I watched two films, one uplifting (The Artist), the other (Tower Heist) soul deadening. I read my book, ate nuts, and drank coffee. But mainly I thought about squid ink pasta.
Our last night in Lugano, I ate a deep dish of squid ink tagliatelle, al dente, lightly coated with tomato sauce and studded with a variety of sliced squid, chopped shrimp, and shreds of tuna. Like my steak tartare appetizer, it was a monstrous portion, but I was equal to the task. Rolling out the door to the empty Lugano streets, I had two thoughts: Swiss Italians eat more than Italian Italians; I would attempt to recreate that pasta as soon as I darted off the plane. And so, back home from the Zurich flight, I headed to Kalustyans for a thimble of squid ink.
I’ve never had a ton of luck with fresh pasta (except for filled varieties). The process is a breeze: rolling out yards-long thin sheets and re-rolling into noodles. But the trick to fresh pasta is the drying and storing. Usually, unless I use immediately, my pasta nests dry and crack, leaving me with half noodle and half noodle crumbs. It’s something to work on.
Nevertheless, I rolled a pound of coal-black fresh squid ink pasta and laid it out for the next day when I seared a bunch of seafood and, a la the Lugano chef, tossed it all together with homemade tomato sauce. While the result was briny and tasty, the dish is all about the noodles, and they were a mere shadow of my Lugano memory.
It’s folly to expect to go home and serve up a dish equal to some guy in Italy who’s been making pasta every day for years. But, rather than being disappointed, I was quite happy with the result, which will forever resurrect a nice memory.
(NOTE: As mentioned above, drying and storing pasta is not a trick I’ve mastered; I recommend cooking immediately. Otherwise, at least according to Marcella Hazan, you should dry for a few hours and then store in an airtight container.)
Tagliatelle Nero with Seafood
Serves 4-6
3 ½ cups flour plus more for dusting
4 eggs
1 tablespoon squid ink
pinch salt
1/4 cup olive oil
1 ½ pounds seafood (squid, shrimp, and tuna or other fish)
Tomato Sauce (preferably homemade)
Pinch hot pepper flakes
Salt and pepper
- For the pasta: Add the flour to a cutting boar (or large bowl) and make a large well with high sides. Add the whole eggs and squid ink. With a fork, whisk the eggs, gradually incorporating flour from the walls of the well until a mass forms. When it does, pick it up , turn to a floured board and knead, dusting with flour if necessary. Knead for at least 10 minutes until smooth and pliable then wrap in plastic and let rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. (See Note.)
- Divide the dough in three balls. Wrap two of the balls in plastic and pass the pasta through a pasta machine, beginning with the widest setting and ending at the second to last setting. Make sure to dust the machine and the pasta sheet with lots of flour.
- If your machine has a tagliatelle or linguine attachment, cut the sheet into noodle-sized segments and roll through, forming each bunch into nests. Placing on a floured tray.
- Otherwise, roll up the segmented sheets jelly-roll fashion and cut thin noodles. Gather in nests and dry on a tray.
- To finish: Slice the squid bodies in ¼ inch rings. Chop the shrimp in thirds and the fish into 1-inch chunks. Season all with salt and pepper.
- Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Heat the tomato sauce in a medium pot. Heat half the oil in a large sauté pan over high heat. When smoking, add the squid and cook 30 seconds then remove to a bowl. Add the remaining oil, shrimp and fish. Cook a minute or so then add to the shrimp. Drop the pasta in the water, cook 2 minutes or until al dente then drain. Return to the pot over low heat, toss with some of the sauce (not too much) and the seafood. Season and serve.
Shad Roe w/ Blistered Hot Peppers
It’s not surprising that shad roe hasn’t hit the big time. The season is incredibly short – a month or so in early spring, and it looks quite funky, a glistening, puffed, veined, u-shaped sack of roe. It’s fish offal, and if you thought it was tough to get your friends to dig into a chunk of calf’s liver, try introducing them to shad roe. On the plus side, the only way to prepare shad roe is in a frying pan, and fried food is generally good food.
I used to take guitar lessons from a guy who lived in a walk-up on 28th street who, when he wasn’t teaching or smoking, seemed to spend most of his time searching for parking spaces, a central part of the job, as I came to learn. He was sort of half-busy with jobs and when anyone called, he shot out of his chair to grasp the offer. It was usually a hospital or bar mitzvah or something like that, most of which required him to throw the guitar and amp in the trunk and head off. Hence the significance of the car. Without the car, he wouldn’t have taken the gig singing upstate at the annual shad festival, an event to which I admit ignorance. A weird job admittedly, but it introduced me to shad roe and for that I’m grateful.
The shad festival is like other ingredient-themed festivals, except it’s pretty low-key, and you can only cook the main item in one way (see above). Without the option of ice cream, shad dogs, or shad funnel cakes, you’re left with pan-fried shad. I piled the shad and shad roe high on the plate, sat on a picnic bench and warily took a bite.
The roe was crisp on the outside and soft on the inside-always a good thing. But the flavor and texture was unusual. It’s not fishy or gamy as you might expect. It’s hearty and earthy, if you can imagine such a thing in a fish. As to texture, you can cut and lift a forkful, but also detect the essential component: thousands of tiny eggs. Like sweetbreads, a land offal, it’s unusual, difficult to describe, yet quite tasty.
The cool thing about shad roe is that you can treat it as you would land offal: wrapped in bacon; garnished with hearty veg; in a formidable red wine sauce. We’ve offered a few options: blistered peppers; lemon zest and tarragon; on a bun with a spicy remoulade sauce.
I’m not sure what my guitar teacher’s up to these days, but I hope he’s still playing the shad festival. It’s on the riverbank, the air is piny and smoky from grilling fish, and it beats a bar mitzvah.
(NOTE: Shishito peppers are perfect for this dish: served as tapas, they’re cooked briefly and thrown on a plate. But they’re hard to find. We fried up a variety of hot peppers, but sliced green and red bell peppers would work great.)
Shad Roe 3 Ways
Serves 4-6
4 large shad roe
¼ cup canola
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
salt and pepper
- Divide the oil and butter between two large pans. Place over medium high heat. Dry and season the roe on both sides with salt and pepper. Dredging in flour is optional but not necessary. When very hot and butter foam has subsided, gently slip in the roe and cook till brown and crisp on both sides, 4 or so minutes per side. Remove to a platter and serve with the following accompaniments or in a sandwich.
Accompaniments:
- Zest of 1 lemon, 1 tablespoon of minced tarragon, 2 tablespoons minced shallots. Toss in a bowl and sprinkle over the shad.
- Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan over high heat until smoking; throw in a large handful of chopped, mixed peppers and cook, barely stirring, until blistered and slightly browned, about 30 seconds. Remove to a tray and season with salt.
- Shad roe sandwich: in a medium bowl, whisk together: 1 cup mayo, 1 tablespoon chopped capers, 1 tablespoon chopped cornichons, 1 minced garlic clove, 1 teaspoon Tabasco, 1 teaspoon Worcestershire, ½ teaspoon cayenne, 1 tablespoon minced shallot, 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard. Spread sauce on bun, top with lettuce, tomato, and shad roe.
Salmon w/ Juniper and Polenta
As we speak I’m on a train in Switzerland from Lucerne to Lugano. Aside from seeing another part of the world, there’s been an additional benefit to this journey; I now know a little German. I’m pretty sure I can say “did he like his ice cream?” and “next stop Lugano”, two highly useful phrases if you ever find yourself around here.
But back to the point. I don’t have my head around the Lucerne culinary culture. Having eaten the following: some tasty slices of boiled brisket, a plate of bad Greek food; good gelato; decent Thai; a weird salad; and nouveau Chinese, I don’t have a clue about the Lucerne culinary style. They seem to be either comfortable with their food or striving for an identity. Which got me thinking of our house plants back home.
On our windowsill overlooking downtown Broadway, sit two clay pots, one planted with Thai Basil seeds, the other with Thai chili seeds. From the moment I got off the phone with the seed man, I envisioned two giant, lush plants from which I can snip fresh pods and leaves as desired and drop them in a pot of curry. Unfortunately, things haven’t worked out as planned. They’re both sprouting the same thing: inch-high weeds. Like the culinary scene of Lucerne, they’re unable or unwilling to bloom into something definably unique and of itself.
Juniper, too, is a fussy, under confident little bugger, halfway between a spice and an old raisin lost in the couch. As the necessary flavoring in gin, it’s an important spice, but it’s less comfortable in the kitchen. Most often chefs use juniper to flavor game: a few of the whole berries tossed into a marinade with a bottle of red wine and a leg of lamb.
But anything that’s primarily used for a cocktail is, as you might expect, usually too strong to cook with, and I find it undetectable and superfluous in said marinade. But as long as you’re careful, one can use juniper to an interesting effect. First, in order to taste it, you must grind the whole berries. From there you can season your meat with a very tiny pinch.
The main ingredient must be powerfully flavored in order to stand up to the spice. Game, lamb, and such, are perfect. From the fish family, salmon-fatty and sturdy-works nicely. Especially on a bed of mascarpone enriched polenta and garnished with vinegar-marinated rock shrimp. Juniper deserves to feel comfortable in its own skin. Next stop, Lucerne and my struggling little plants.
(NOTE: these little shrimp work very well on their own as a tapas with country bread, tossed with lentils and tomatoes, in a salad, etc. Don’t marinate them too long; the acids will transform them into tiny bullets.)
Salmon w/ Juniper and Polenta
Serves 4
1 cup instant polenta
3 cups water
large spoonful mascarpone
4 salmon fillets, skin off, about 6 oz each
¼ cup olive oil
¼ teaspoon ground juniper
Marinated Rock Shrimp (see Note)
kosher salt and pepper
- Add water to a medium pot and bring to a boil over medium high heat. Add the polenta in a thin stream, stirring or whisking constantly to make smooth. Reduce heat and simmer gently, stirring frequently until thickened but still pourable, Add water if necessary.
- Preheat oven to 400.
- Season the fish with juniper and salt.
- Heat the oil in a large pan over high heat. When nearly smoking, add the fish and cook without moving until browned, about 2 minutes. Flip, cook one minute and add to oven for about 3 or 4 minutes. Remove.
5. To serve, add the mascarpone to the polenta and stir until incorporated. Season with salt and pepper. Divide among 4 plates, top with salmon.
Marinated Rock Shrimp
½ cup olive oil
½ pound rock shrimp
5 or 6 thinly sliced small chilies
2 teaspoons chopped thyme
1 clove thinly sliced garlic
1 cup cider vinegar
salt and pepper
- Heat half the oil in a large pan over high heat. Season the shrimp with salt and pepper and throw into the pan. Cook, tossing, until done but not too brown, 3 or 4 minutes. Remove to a bowl.
- Add the chilies, thyme, and garlic. Saute briefly until fragrant then add to the shrimp. Pour in the vinegar, reduce by half and pour over shrimp. Top with remaining ¼ cup oil and let cool to room temperature. Season to taste. Serve immediately or marinate for up to an hour.
