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. 

Read More »

Tangy Minty Crisp Sticky Cheese and Honey Pie.

The most indulgent plate I have ever set eyes on was at a taverna in Therisos, a gorge five minutes west of Chania that is known for meat nearly as much as for scenery, each rich with drama. The scenery was lost to darkness; we were there for the meat. But that meat- glistening mahogany, succulent, tinged with char- was not the indulgence I remember. Sitting on a rustic wooden chair outside the kitchen, elegant in Cretan traditional dress of tall boots and a black crocheted mandili, was an absolutely ancient man. He held a full-sized plate heavy with long pointed wedges of Graviera- a local aged semi-hard cheese- blanketed thickly with thyme honey. He had no bread, and no fork. He looked peaceful, and severe, and what with all the honey, a little bit naughty. Drunk with grilled goat chops and a little tipsy on wine, I could not but gaze at his feast. He gave me the barest wry smile of satisfaction before raising a dripping wedge to his mouth.

Cheese and honey is fabulous- common enough in Crete (kalitsounia- delicious small fried cheese pies served with honey, or the thin and severe and delicious Sfakianopita, blistered on a dry griddle) and elsewhere. Any sweet/savory pie gets to me- Bisteeya, Tourte de Blette.... This pie is simplest of these brilliant lunch/dessert pies- serving every want at every hour. As to the mint- mint in some savory dishes can seem exotic for Western palates- we know it most in juleps and ices, patties covered with chocolate. Paired with fresh goat cheese, like in the fabulous and elaborate Cretan Boureki, or with feta, like in this pie, mint is wild and sophisticated and mellow all at once. 

Nothing says Greece outside of Greece like phyllo pastry. It seems intricate and complicated and exotic but actually it is only the last- packaged frozen phyllo is breeze to work with- high impact, low risk. When I am visiting the US and making dinner for friends and family, I use it often, for little mezze pies, or for dessert (Galaktoboureko, a milk and semolina phyllo syrup dessert that makes a less dizzyingly sweet alternative to baklava, is a favorite), or most recently in this pie, ideal as mezze, light lunch, or dessert.  

We will need just:

450 g/1 pound frozn phyllo sheets

about  150 g/ 1 1/4 sticks butter

250 g/ 1/2 pound feta

200 g/ 1 C strained yogurt

about 20 fresh mint leaves, torn small (dried mint in a pinch is also quite good- mint dries well)

Lots of honey, for serving

Take the phyllo from its box and thaw it in its plastic inner package. Get out a clean kitchen towel and dampen it slightly, a dish to bake the pie in, and a pastry brush. Crumble the feta and blend with the yogurt and the torn mint leaves. Melt the butter. When the dough has thawed (it will pliable- it is easy to tell), take it from its package, unroll it, and cover it with the barely damp towel. Phyllo is much easier to work with if it stays pliable. Brush the baking dish with a little butter, lay over a sheet of phyllo, draping and crimping it to leave just a bit of overhand on the sides. It will be full of ruffles, and any torn or broken sheets can be used  just as easily. Brush with butter, and repeat with six or seven more sheets. Cover with the filling, drape the ends over it, 

brushing them likewise with butter, and layer more sheets on top, another six or seven, gathering and crimping them and leaving no overhang this time. and making a very pretty crimping with the top sheets. The ruffles will grab the butter, allow the air to circulate and make them evenly crisp. Messy imperfection bakes up into rustic baroque beauty. 

The pie can sit on the counter for a while at this stage, if you plan to make it before the meal perhaps and serve it for dessert. It's nice to present it hot from the oven, puffed like a souffle from the heat. Half an hour or so before you want to eat it, put it into a 170 f/ 350 c oven, on a low rack so the bottom sheets get a good chance to brown. Keep a close eye on it and remove  it when it is a uniform rich deep golden color (and definitely not light brown), perhaps 25-30 minutes.

Pour honey on the individual slices for beauty- a drizzle for mezze, a cascade for dessert. Of course the pie is wonderful on its own, but the stickiness of the honey sharpens the crispness of the shards of phyllo, the rich dairy tang of the cheese tames the sweetness, making you want more of each, and more of everything.

Read More »

A Tzatziki Can Never be Too Thick or Too Rich.

Creamy, refreshing, subtle, and nutritious- ideal for all your summer tables.

A recipe for tzatiki? Of course it's not necessary- just blend grated cucumber with yogurt, add some garlic to taste, and some dill for fragrance and color and, eh... voila! But taking a little care with each step will give you a cool, creamy, subtle and fragrant spread that is more substantial and much, much better than the gyro-shop standard. The keys to an absolutely magnificent tzatziki are less garlic than you would think, more dill than you would think, and a slightly obsessive preparation. It is nothing too taxing- just mashing the garlic into a smooth pulp with salt, mincing the dill so fine that it bleeds a beautiful avocado color into the yogurt, and removing as much moisture from both the grated cucumbers and the already strained yogurt as you possibly can.

We will need:

600 g/ about 2 1/2 C strained yogurt

2 long "seedless" cucumbers

a very large bunch of dill

a garlic clove the size of an almond

salt

olive oil

First, strain the already-strained yogurt- you can line a strainer with cheesecloth or gauze. It's surprising how much liquid will be shed (the whey is healthful and delicious- save it to add it to the cucumber lassi you might make with the cucumber juice below). 

Wash the dill fronds thoroughly, squeeze them dry, and mince them fine. Then mince them again- this will help release their fragrance and color, and ensure there is no coarseness of texture in the finished tzatziki.

Garlic when raw builds in intensity over time. By all means put in as much as you like, but bear in mind that it will grow stronger, and make sure all of it mashed into a silky puree with the side of the blade of a knife- a large pinch of salt helping to break it down:

If a little dill gets mashed in with it, so much the better:

Peel your cucumbers and grate them on the large holes of a box grater. It will seem like quite a lot of grated cucumber. Put it into a fine-mesh strainer and salt it, putting the strainer over a bowl. 

After a short time, it will have shed a lot of liquid. Squeeze it to get out even more. (The beautiful green liquid in the bottom of the bowl is salty but delicious- I have blended it with tomato juice, and also made a cucumber lassi over ice)

In order to ensure the garlic is well distributed, blend it first with a small amount of the strained yogurt and then blend that garlic-scented yogurt with the rest. After this, stir in the squeezed-out grated cucumber and the minced dill. There should be plenty of salt from the cucumbers and the garlic paste, but test once again, and stir in a little olive oil for silkiness. Drizzle some more over the top too, just for the pleasure of the three lovely shades of green.

If there are grilled meats this is always on the table. But in just a few weeks when it is too hot to eat, this makes a very agreeable way to keep from fainting, with a heel of crusty bread and maybe a tomato cut up on a plate and sprinkled with salt.

Read More »

Smoked Herring and Potato Salad- Meze a la Zakuski (with a Blowtorch)

Greece is rich in fish. Beside the teeming wine dark seas, even the smallest of neighborhood markets will have a fair selection of various smoked, salted, and oil packed fish- accompaniment to white bean soup and enjoyed on their own with ouzo (the licorice-sweetness invites vibrant salty bites). The humblest and least expensive (this one was about two euroes fifty) of these is the whole smoked, skin-on, head-on herring.

It needs a little work, but what fun work! The skin is tough- fire though makes it peel away from the fish all by itself. You can do this with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol and stuck on the tines of a fork, but for drama and speed, a blowtorch is perfect. I wanted one from the cooking supply but impetuousness found me a rough (and cheap) one from the hardware store- less precise, fun to wield. Just keep the fish away from anything that can catch fire, and train the flame on it, working your way all over the surface of the fish

the skin just comes away by itself

leaving the glow of char behind.

The dark, coarse-textured flesh can be ripped easily from the center bone, and the smaller bones tweezed from these rough fillets with with your fingertips. Short and viscerally satisfying work yields a tangle of smoky, salty, richly oily meat. If you are lucky, it also yields an egg sack-

stuffed with densely packed, firm, popping and nearly crunchy super-smoky eggs. They are vividly flavored, but smeared over a thick layer of sweet butter on some bread they are all rustic refinement- the deluxe mountain lodge of canapes- and a lot of them. Ask for a fish that is full around the belly to increase your chances.

So that's it for the fish. The smoky and chewy longs for crisp and sweet- for the niceness of onion with none of the nastiness, pickled onions are worth the very small effort. All you do is thinly slice the onions and put them in some icy water:

after ten minutes or so, squeeze them gently. The water will turn milky-

that's all the sharpness of the onion in that cloudiness. Repeat this a couple of times and still more sharpness will be rinsed away. Sweeten, perfume, and liven them up by adding some vinegar, a bay leaf, and some whole allspice berries and whole black peppercorns

These want a little time to mingle- if they're wanted right away, warm them to speed things up (even in a microwave). The sweet spiced vinegar itself is also good.

In the meantime, we will have boiled a couple of potatoes in salted water (it should taste like the sea). It's good if the potatoes are freshly boiled and still warm. All that's left do do is peel them and cut them into large pieces and mound the shreds of smoky fish in the middle. Dress with this:

5 ml/ 1 tsp dijon mustard

10 ml. 2 T vinegar from the onions

80 ml/ 1/3 C olive oil

a few grindings of pepper

a dash of salt (the potatoes have been cooked in salted water and the herring has plenty of salt too).

Cover the salad with the onions, some chopped parsley, maybe some capers. This is crazy good with ouzo on ice, gently watered down and cloudy white. Warm potatoes, icy ouzo, chewy salty smoke, fresh bright parsley, the onions sweet and crunchy- it is perpetually satisfying, each bite or sip priming the next, as the time at table lengthens- the mark of a successful dish.

Read More »