Sweet Chilli Salmon

Barely a recipe at all, this just shows off one of my favourite condiments of all time.

Put some salmon fillets or steaks into a bowl, with one tablespoon of sweet chilli sauce per piece of fish. Let them sit at room temperature for about an hour, turning if you can remember. A teensy splodge of neutral vegetable oil in the frypan, and then fry. (I do flesh side down for 2-3 mins, then skin side until a bit of white salmon fat starts to ooze out the sides and the middle is still looking very slightly translucent.)

Job done.

(Don’t serve with anything more complex than a green salad.)

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Smoked Mackerel Risotto

Smoked mackerel is one of my public vices. I can happily eat the stuff on its own, roughly shoved onto some toast with a squirt of lemon and some pepper. Never had it as a child (we used to have smoked cod, which was a chemical orange colour and horrid) so no nursery associations, but it strikes me as comfort food.

This, then, is a bit of an experiment. Can I combine the slightly sharp smoky fishiness with the gentle ooze of a risotto? The answer is yes, although the results don’t quite taste like risotto.

I used:

• 300g Arborio rice (or your preferred risotto rice)
• a large onion
• 200g smoked mackerel fillets, skinned and flaked into large pieces (or some other hot smoked fish, if you prefer – note that most “smoked” salmon is cured and cold smoked, so not suitable for this recipe)
• 150g shelled peas (frozen is fine, you could maybe use mangetout, but definitely some form of crisp legume)
• about a litre of vegetable stock (fish stock would be too OTT for this)

Make the risotto in the usual way – adding the peas and fish about five minutes before the end.

You probably won’t need any extra salt, but more pepper than usual.

Some people get very sniffy about seafood plus cheese, but I think that stirring in maybe 25g of parmesan is the right thing to do. The sharp salty flavour helps balance the starchy goo.

In hindsight, it really could have done with a bunch of parsley, and maybe some lemon zest. Fresh thyme leaves might be worth a go as well.

Crusty Cod

There was a huge lump of cod in the supermarket this evening.

And some leftover pesto, so I did this.

And it ended up like this.

Mmmm. (Although the crust could have gone a bit browner.)

This is a recipe that will appeal to those of you who fancy a bit of engineering as you need to make a crust, and get it onto the fish, without mangling the fish. The crust is there to stop the fish from drying out, and to become gratifyingly brown and crunchy.

Here’s what I used:

• a 300g piece of cod fillet, without any skin (serves two)
• 90g of leftover pesto (because that was how much I had)
• 70g of breadcrumbs (as it looked about right)
• 25g of Parmesan (or any kind of Grana)

…and this is what I do…

1. Place the fish in a small baking dish, with a dab of olive oil or butter to stop it sticking.
2. Combine the breadcrumbs, pesto and Parmesan in a bowl. At this point it will be a bit fluffy, and impossible to put over the fish, so what I do is push the mixture against the side of the bowl with a spoon (and then my fingers) until it’s quite thin and quite solid. (I had goop all over my hands at this point, so no photo, sorry.) You could probably also do this with a rolling pin, but that would make for more washing up.
3. I then use a butter knife to lever off the crust from the side of the bowl and lay it on the fish – it should cover not only the top, but the sides – nothing worse than a piece of fish with a crust the size of a small biscuit. (This means the restaurant has made the crust separately and earlier, and has simply popped it on your steamed/microwaved fish.)
4. I plonk the dish into a pre heated oven at 180ºC – regular readers will know that mine is a fan forced – so you might want to set your gas oven to about 200ºC.
5. After 15 minutes, it should be done. I stick a palette knife through the centre part of the fish (where I’m going to divide it into two portions) to see if the flesh comes apart easily and it doesn’t. As this piece is about an inch thick, I’m not too bothered, so pop it in for another five minutes.

A squirt of lemon, some new potatoes, and a cold beer are all that are needed to complete the picture.

That’s right. Beer. You’re probably used to being intimidated by the waiter into buying a thirty quid bottle of Chablis, but what white fish needs is some good beer.

Variations

You could…

• use salmon instead of cod
• add a splash of lemon juice to the crust mixture
• use salsa verde instead of pesto

Come to think of it, you could (and I haven’t tried this) make a crust based on some kind of spice/curry paste, and maybe couscous instead of breadcrumbs. That might be interesting.

Puttanesca

I’ll leave other people to discuss the origins of this sauce, but it’s a good bold in-yer-face dish, for a cold damp evening.

The olives should be whole when you buy them, as they start to lose flavour the minute you stone them. The tomatoes need to be drained of their juice so the whole thing doesn’t taste like ketchup: empty the tin into a sieve and give it a shake or two. As always, used dried oregano, and the poshest anchovy fillets you can find.

Per person:

• half an onion
• four anchovy fillets (more if you dare)
• two cloves garlic
• a pinch of dried chilli
• half a dozen Kalamata olives, stoned and chopped roughly
• half a 450g tin of chopped tomatoes, drained
• salt, pepper, oregano, olive oil

Dice and fry the onion and chilli (with a pinch of salt) in the olive oil until the onion is pale gold.

Meanwhile, slice up the garlic finely, and when the onion is done, push the onion mix to the edge of the pan and fry the garlic ’til it’s translucent in the middle and gold on the edges.

Add the olive, anchovies, tomato and oregano, grind over some black pepper, and simmer on a very low heat for about ten minutes; as long as it takes you to do the pasta.

Serve on pasta with plenty of grana and more pepper.

Variations

Whilst frying the onion, garlic and chilli, you could also add some finely chopped chicken breast. I’d suggest not draining the tomatoes in this case.

Alternatively, you could slice up a fresh tuna steak (don’t bother with tinned) and slip it on top for the simmering phase.

Some people like to add capers, if you do, add them at the last minute, as cooked capers are even more horrid.

Spuds and Mackerel

I bought a pink silicone egg flip today. It looks, well, a trifle girly. Which makes it all the more odd, as when it was run up on the register, the lady says to me, “sorry, I’ve got to confirm you’re over eighteen”, before bursting into giggles. I says, “no problem, I know that even now, the estates are being stalked by gangs of hoody wearing teens, armed with egg whisks and slotted spoons, and it’s only right you should ask.” It’s almost not worth mentioning that the slightest smidgeon of a possibility that I looked under eighteen left me immeasurably chuffed.

Anyway, I’d like to point out that I am not a Nigel Slater Junkie, but he does write good recipes. Here is something else I like.

As usual, he’s infuriatingly imprecise, as Mr Barnes has pointed out, so here are my notes:

• allow 200g of fish and 300g of potatoes per person
• as long as the potatoes are medium sized (Mr Barnes: you’ll want them to be 105mm along the long axis, and 207mm in circumference) and not too thick skinned, the variety doesn’t seem to matter; tonight’s supper was done with some King Edwards
• after 30 mins of roasting the potatoes, get in with some barbecue tongs and rearrange them to allow maximum opportunities for crisping

I’m afraid sheer unmitigated greed prevented me from taking photos until everything had been consumed.

Ahem.

Fishcakes

It all started with half a punnet of uneaten and slightly squishy cherry tomatoes. Had I just chucked them out, none of this would have happened and my kitchen would not be in its current state of devastation. To cut a long story short, the tomatoes became a small quantity of very intense tomato sauce, and I thought, “yes! fishcakes!” – oops.

For the fish I just used some frozen blocks of “cod portions” – basically all the ugly bits that can’t be sold as fillets are squished together, frozen, and then sawn up. Given that most of the “fresh” cod you see at the fish counter in a supermarket has already been frozen and thawed, there’s no need to get precious about this sort of thing.

The frozen blocks of fish got poached in a saucepan of milk with a bay leaf, whilst an equivalent amount of spuds (peeled and chopped into chunks) were being simmered next door. (Washing up count = 2.)

When the fish was done, it was turned out onto a rimmed chopping board, flaked, and picked through for any bones and bits of skin, and after, combined with the mashed potato in a bowl. (Washing up count = 4.)

After a bit of squishing with a spoon and then by hand to get to the right texture, the resulting mass was rolled into ball about two inches across and half an inch thick, floured and popped on a plate to await their fate. (Washing up count = 6.)

Finally the fishcakes were fried…

…until crisp on the outside, before being gratefully gobbled up with the aforementioned tomato sauce. (Washing up count = 7.)

Grilled Sardines

The first mouthful of cold beer on a hot summer night is always the best. The rest of the pint is pretty damn good, too. There’s a mellow warmth in the twilight on the way home, cyclists are zipping back and forth, lovers are holding hands, and it doesn’t quite feel like September. Enjoy it while it lasts.

I’m in the mood for fish, but by mid afternoon, the fishmonger has nothing left, except an entire box of fat juicy sardines, so I get four of ‘em; scaled and gutted. She does give me the option of getting the heads lopped off, but I don’t see the point.

A quick salsa: one red onion fried with a thinly sliced clove of garlic in olive oil, salt, pepper, and a handful of chopped up tomatoes in a small pan for about ten minutes. Had I olives or capers, or even some parsley, they’d have gone in as well, but not to worry. Oh, damn. There is parsley in the fridge, and I forgot. Double damn.

The sardines go under the grill wearing nothing more than a splash of olive oil – mine’s fairly pathetic – so they need five minutes a side. Those, plus some salsa, and some steamed spinach, are all that’s required.

Except, of course, for another ice cold beer.