Fish Soup, Greek Style (Like a Velvety Lemon Bouillabaisse)

These rough looking fish that look like a Dutch still life are delicious boiled. They are as large as a large man's hand, and have one sharp point on their back fin that has some poison in it (not enough to kill you of course- just enough to make your hand itch). Pavlos the fish guy says he'll clean them for me to be safe, but he says it under his breath because they are 3 eu a kilo and he just told the woman ahead of me he of course would not clean them. They only clean the 5 euroes and up fish- the cod, the striped bass, the red snappers, and so on. I appreciate it- a sink full of spiky fish, and something is could to go wrong.

Greek style fish soup is a simple matter- there is no shellfish, just fish, but of course variety and quantity count. But if you have a good boiling fish the one kind is enough. The soup is thick and filling, thanks to being thickened with potatoes and  rice, and avgolemono. The flavors are clean and simple- we just use a little European style celery, parsley, onion, maybe some dill. A carrot is nice.

Like all the nice fish soups, this is traditionally a simple meal. We get what we can out of the humble ingredients- nothing is wasted and it is delicious and virtuous.

We will need:

1-2 K boiling fish- one kind, or a mix- cleaned

3 potatoes

2 onions

5 or 6 carrots

1/2 bunch parsley

a few fronds of dill, plus stems

a couple of stalks of celery

a handful of rice

a few peppercorns

2 lemons

2 eggs

As soon as you get the fish home, salt them well and bury some lemon slices among them.

Scrub the potatoes and carrots clean. Peel them, and put their peels in a pot with the outer layers of the onions (but not the papery skins), the celery, parsley, and dill, and a few whole peppercorns. Add a spoonful of salt, and bring to a boil, boiling about 20 minutes. 

Chop the onions finely, cut the potatoes into large dice, and the carrots into large pieces. Strain the broth into a bowl, pressing on the boiled peels and herbs. Put some olive oil in a large soup pot (I used the same one I had made the broth in- we just have the one) and saute the onion until clear, add the rice, and the broth. Give it a head start of five minutes, then add the potatoes and the carrots, and on top of this the fish, which you have tied into one or two packets with cheesecloth or sterile gauze

Simmer just until the vegetables are tender- the fish will need no more time than they will.

Remove the fish carefully and open the packets. The fish, no matter how careful you have been, will be a mess.

The skin of a tasty boiling fish is sticky. Take the flaky meat from the bones carefully if you can, or just leave it on the platter and let everyone work on their own fish, with mayonnaise on the side. You can put the fish into the soup, but we usually have ours plain with mayonnaise and enjoy the rich fish flavor of the soup's broth- it is like two dishes this way, and more of an activity.

To finish the soup, add a couple spoonfuls of flour mixed in cold water to thicken it slightly, then beat 2 eggs with the juice of a lemon, add hot soup slowly to bring it up to temperature, then pour this mixture back into the pot, off the heat now. It will become opaque and velvety.

Test for lemon, probably adding more, and test for salt. Serve with a drizzle of oil and some chopped herbs

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Butterflied, Crisp-Fried Fresh Anchovies- A Suprisingly Glamorous Tuesday Lunch.

The anchovy is such an elegant fish- svelte, firm, clean-scented. They are very nearly scaleless, tight silver skin glinting beguilingly. In this case, like in so many others, elegance has no relation to cost; these are always the least expensive fish in our part of the Mediterranean. 

A fishless week is happily a rare thing in our house- specifically, an anchovyless week. It's easy to think of anchovies- salt-cured to rich dark suppleness- as a vital and transformative condiment rather than a food- a decisive element of Caesar Salads, Pizza. Fresh ones, lighter on the umami mystique, lighter on the palate, make an ideal fish fry. I never set out to get them, but nearly always do- they are usually 2 euroes a kilo, crisp like apples in the fall- always the freshest of the fish on offer. The light taste of sea never gets tiresome. Cleaning them is surprisingly not at all disgusting; it's satisfying in a primal, visceral sort of way. Short work, too- the guts generally come right out cleanly attached to the head when you cut it off. The blood smells cool and fresh. Owing to their price, freshness and availability, they are a common dish in many homes. So common that, although beloved and delicious, they are not usually thought particularly special. Taking the extra step of butterflying them changes this.

For a generous plate of fried fish, we will need:

A kilo of fresh anchovies

salt

a few handfuls of flour

good oil for frying- one finger-width deep

lemon

maybe some vinegar

Have a newspaper beside the sink, toss in the fish (they will bounce if they are nice and fresh!), and, holding the fish in one hand and a small paring knife in the other, remove the head, pulling the guts out along with it, leaving them on the newspaper. Put the fish in a bowl. A kilo yields about 75 fish. Of these, 5 or 10 may have some scales. They are easily taken off with a knife, drawing the blade from tail to head.

When all the fish are clean and in the bowl, run them under the tap, filling the bowl with water, massaging the fish gently, and changing the water- which will be cloudy and silver at first- until it is very nearly clear. Shake out handfuls of fish to remove most of the water and put them in a smaller bowl.

There are two things that can be done with them:

I. If they are to be fried up whole- which is really just fine and certainly the easiest thing to do- season them with salt and squeeze a lemon over them, leaving the lemon nestled among the fish. Refrigerate until you are ready to fry them, giving them at least a half an hour. The flavors of salt and lemon continue to build- if you plan to leave them long before frying, season them more gently. The bones can be eaten, or very easily removed at the table.

2. If you are of a mind to spoil everyone, you can butterfly them, loosening the spine from the flesh with your fingertips and removing it. 

This is not difficult, and slightly easier if you leave the fish in vinegar for a short time- as if you were making boquerones but more briefly. The flesh will become whiter and more opaque, like a cevice, and the bone will be easier to remove. The fish will take on some liveliness of the vinegar- much more than a half an hour, and they may take on more flavor than you would like for a simple fish fry. When they have been deboned, put them all in a strainer and salt them, tossing the fish abut so the salt gets everywhere. These are now ready for frying (and ready for making a magnificent en Saor- to be enjoyed for days from the refrigerator as a mezze or substantial cocktail snack).

Either way, when ready to fry, put on a large pan of oil (the depth of a finger) on high heat, toss the fish in a fine mesh strainer, dredge them in flour, and give them a vigorous shake to remove the excess before laying them individually in the hot oil so they do not clump together. Whole or filleted, they will need to be turned. The fillets are ready in a flash- they will be done before you need to turn down the oil. For the whole fish, you may need to adjust the temperature if they begin quickly to blacken. You may also find you need to change the oil after two or three batches- much as you may shake the excess flour off, some will fall into the oil, continuing to brown with each new batch. When golden, take them out with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. This makes a beautiful heaping tangle of fish, worth the very little trouble and even less money.

I have found that serving fish for Tuesday lunch sets a fine tone for the week, so fine that it covers for the eventuality of less elaborate meals later on. 

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Fresh Anchovies en Saor- A Condensed History of the West

Yes raisins- of course with raisins!

The puckery refreshment of pickled things- so bracing- picks up the palate on a lazy July evening. Fish takes well to pickling, but the results are often a little bit slick in texture (some may even say slimy- I know I have). How to get that full satisfying flavor with its savory and sweet undertones, and still have the toothsome bite that characterizes the breaded and fried? Pickling the breaded and fried fish gives us both, in abundance.

Actually, everything about this dish is abundant: it's hard to find a dish that fills so many desires at once. The fish is densely meaty, the onions still a tiny bit crisp, the raisins tender and juicy. Their marinade- brightness from the lemon zest, depth from the capful of rum, savoriness from the rounds of onion and the needles of fresh rosemary and of course the fishes themselves, sweetness from the raisins and the orange and the allspice (and a pinch of sugar), zesty tang from the lemon juice and a squeeze of vinegar.

This is a powerful bunch of flavors. But your palate will not get tired quickly- for they are smoothed and wedded beautifully by the reliable generosity of fat and starch. The flour dredged fillets, crisped to golden in ample olive oil, have plenty of surface to absorb these vibrant flavors. The result is lively and complex, not assertive or complicated.

Why so few photos?- Well, frankly, fish-gutting is not a very photogenic process. It is quick and easy though, and if you're of a certain disposition, can bring a primal satisfaction. Here's a photo of the fish before we get started:

Silvery fresh anchovies- γαύρος- slightly longer than a finger.

We'll need a half pound/250 g of anchovies- some 30 or 40- to make a nice plate of them. This is not too many- the work will not be overwhelming. A really good thing about anchovies is that they rarely have any scales. If they do, they'll be clinging quite obviously here and there- run a knife along each side from tail to head, just to make sure. Little's nastier than an unexpected fish scale in the mouth. Given them all a rinse in a bin of water, then, one by one, simply remove their heads with a sharp knife, pulling the guts along with them. Another rinse, and we're done with the first part. To remove the spine easily (while punching up the flavor) soak the cleaned fish in vinegar for an hour. Then, you can slit them along the bottom down to the tail, grasp the top of the spine, and quite easily slide your fingers down either side toward the tail, removing it and leaving you with a butterflied fish, or more likely, two halves joined by the tail- which is what usually happens to me. No matter- they'll be just as tasty and not so very less impressive.

As a cm of olive oil heats, assemble the following:

a medium onion, sliced thinly

a bay leaf

8 - 10 whole allspice berries

A few leaves of fresh rosemary

a lemon- zested and juiced

an orange- zested and juiced

vinegar

a little sugar

salt

pepper

a handful of black raisins

A capful of rum (or whiskey)

Leave that browned flour in the pan to flavor the onions.

Dredge the fish fillets in flour, give them a shake, and lay them in a single layer in the sizzling oil- turning once or twice, to ensure they are evenly golden-brown. Scoop them out onto some paper towels, fry the next batch, and possibly a third, and then pour all but a bit of the oil from the pan. there will remain much browned flour in the bottom of the pan along with the oil and this is nice and tasty. Toss the bay leaf, the allspice, and the thinly sliced onions in over medium heat and give them a turn or two, letting them soften a bit. Then add the zests and juices, a pinch of sugar, a squeeze of vinegar, the rosemary, and the raisins along with the rum (it gives a nice base note and smooths the flavors). It will make a nice "koosh" sound. Add the fish and give them a gentle turn so they do not break, and arrange them with their sauce in a dish- good cold, good warm, good the next day and the day after that.

Thanks to the Moors for the raisins and the sweet/sour exotic punch, thanks to the Caribbean for the rum, and thanks to all the fisherman for the anchovies. 

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Rich Catch of Fish

That's almost as much fun to say in English as it is in German. The evocative name- originally used for an armchair- very happily describes lunch (although, it was not caught by me).

Usually I try to get to the weekly market before nine- the sun is full up but the street is still in shade, and there is a little dew on the lettuces and everything smells so green and fresh. But being detained by a book over three cups of tea has its advantages- namely, the fish goes way down in price:

(Third crate from the left top row- what was left of the striped bass after I bought mine. Incidentally, those one euro [!] fish are fresh anchovies that are as snapping crisp and hard as granny smith apples and I would have got them if we hadn't eaten them three Mondays in a row because they are delicious.)

I'm pretty sure these are the Mediterranean version of striped bass- here in Greece λαβρακια ("lavrakia." incidentally, slang for a rich guy someone is dating). Striped bass (striped 'best' in our family parlance, as our older daughter Charlene logically thought they were called that when she was little.).

So these were glorious fish. The fish monger cleans them after they're weighed, and does a pretty good job. What you want to do when you get a fresh clean fish home is this- put it in the sink, run your fingers over it from tail to head to check for any scales that may have been missed- especially on the underside near the tail and at the top near the head (the nape of the neck if it had one). Scrape these off with a sharp knife. With a pair of very sharp scissors, snip off a good bit of the fins, and anything really pointy- there is often a vicious spike near the top fin, for instance. Then give it a nice rinse under running water and clean the cavity of any vestiges of fish guts. I did this with the four fish, then packed them belly side up into a large plastic container. Fish like salt, more than you might feel comfortable using- imagine, lots of the salt will drain off as they sit in the fridge. I've rarely over-salted fish, and when I have, it has been not the amount of salt that was the problem but the length of time they had to absorb it (like if I don't get around to grilling them until next day's lunch for instance). Then squeeze lemon halves over them like crazy- 2 halves per fish, and stuff the cavities with the juiced halves. If you can afford to give them 2 hours in the fridge, that would be just about perfect. I could only wait 45 minutes.

Ideally, We would grill these over charcoal, but for a Monday lunch, the oven grill is fine- as hot as it gets (275 C!), with the grill pan in to pre-heat. We take the fish from the refrigerator and remove the lemon halves and brush them with olive oil, and we brush the hot, hot grill with oil too before laying on the fish (you will hear a nice 'ssshhhh' searing sound as you do, giving us every chance of a crisp underside). We put them in on the highest rack and check after 10 minutes, needing probably another 10 before they are blistering and black in some spots. It's the devil to turn them over without ripping the skin but you have to try- the charred skin is beautiful and very delicious- the bacon of the seas. This side will color and finish much faster, owing to the fish's being hot through and through now.

What do you serve with fish? Well, usually you would think a beautiful salad and some taramosalata, but really, these fish were over a half a kilo apiece and so luscious and charred and rich and beautiful, we had nothing at all, save some lemon and oil with a little minced parsley.

their discreet but plentiful dressing

 A lavish Monday lunch sets a very nice tone for the week!

(the armchair can be seen here: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Armchair,_Der_reiche_Fischzug_(The_Rich_Catch_of_Fish)_LACMA_M.2000.180.39_(2_of_2).jpg)

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