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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Tres Gazpachos

Two of my favorite desserts have "3" in them- Pastel con tres leches, and the Three Cities of Spain Cheesecake (named for a cafe in Santa Fe, NM, where it was served), which, even as a New Yorker, I prefer to both the Lindy's and the Junior's versions. 

A favorite warm weather lunch for us is Gazpacho, a seemingly elemental cold soup of simple ingredients that prompts all kinds of experimentation. I had thought that experimentation had at last come to an end when I took my mother's copy of the César's cookbook. This is from a restaurant that thrives despite being down the street from both the venerable Chez Panisse and divine Cha Am, probably based on these excellent recipes. The roasting does much for a so-so tomato. (But we live in Greece- there is no such thing as a so-so tomato.) I love César's rich and full flavored gazpacho, which I leave rough textured-  Gazpacho 1. 

The suave, subtle suede of the excellent Mama Roux gazpacho.

So then, a friend of mine said "You have to try the Gazpacho at John's. It's even better than yours." I was all ears, not envious but definitely startled (I never heard that sentence before), and curious, and very hungry for it by the time I reached the restaurant. Well, it was good! And the difference, chiefly? One of texture- the Mama Roux* Gazpacho had been through a tamis and was suede on the tongue. Delicious balanced flavor. The rich texture (but not in the least heavy) put one more in mind of a meal than a blended salad. I made a basic gazpacho, and after blending, forced it though a fine mesh strainer. Excellent results. Gazpacho 2.

But I missed my version, the earthy roughness of it. What I did not miss was the slightly cooked flavor. The completely raw version was livelier, more vivid. And the Greek tomato needs no help from roasting, amply sweet and flavorful as it is. I do love a rough texture, but small bits of raw tomato skin make have the texture of cling film. In the roasted version, those skins just slipped right off. Blanching in scalding water sounded like no fun, and broiling would cook them too much, and also be no fun. You know what is fun though?- Blow torches**! Although I did not want a cooked flavor, a burnt flavor is a different thing altogether- rich bits of char fit in with the rustic roughness. I trained the blue flame on the skins and they blackened and crackled and hissed. The pulse of the Ur-pyromaniac in me quickened with glee. The smell was marvelous. The flesh between the cracks of blackened charred skin was as raw and vibrant as ever.

"When you're holding a hammer, everything looks like a nail," so goes the saying. When you're holding a blowtorch, everything looks like it might taste better charred. I started looking around for more things to burn. I avoid onion in gazpacho as the flavor of raw onion can sharpen over time. But not the flavor of charred onion- that mellows over time. To the pan I added some thick slices of onion, a garlic clove, and such peppers as I had lying around. The onion takes a surprisingly long time to take color. The garlic softened and took on some sweetness and richness from the flame. The cucumber I left cool and raw.

Was the flavor the equal of vegetables roasted over glowing coals? Perhaps not. But there were no coals to light and wait for, no smoke for the neighbors to complain about (and we already have a dog), no ashes to clean up, and no radiant sweltering heat to sweat over. There was also a level of control and immediate satisfaction that experienced cooking at its most fun provides, but without the need for any experience. And the cool hiss of the torch and the blue flame lend the lively zest of danger (which is real- no loose clothing, hair out of the way).

For Gazpachos 1, 2 or 3, we need the same things:

1 kilo of tomatoes
a garlic clove

a pepper or two

a long cucumber, peeled roughly

a thick slice of stale bread- ciabatta or old-leavened bread

1 tsp. of vinegar

2 T strong wine- sherry would be ideal but I had Cretan Romaico from a friend and it was excellent

120 ml/ 1/2 C olive oil

salt to taste

Maybe an onion

A glass of very cold water to loosen it up enough to be a soup

Gazpacho 1.

For the Cesar's- roast the tomatoes (great if you have a craving in winter!), slip the skins off and remove the cores, mash the garlic into a puree with some salt, and puree everything in the blender until it is the texture you like.

Gazpacho 2.

For my version of Mama Roux's version- Mash the garlic with the salt, core the tomatoes, and puree everything raw. Press through a fine mesh strainer into a bowl, and puree the remaining solids with some cold water and press through again. Only seeds and skin will remain in the strainer this time. Taste for seasoning.

Gazpacho 3. (3 times is a charm)

For the new one, char everything but the cucumbers and the bread. Prepare the vegetables- tomatoes and peppers washed and not wet, onion peeled and in thick slices, garlic whole and unpeeled. Put them in a large and deep metal pan and take it somewhere open and safe with nothing flammable around. The skins of the tomatoes should be entirely blackened (you will need to turn them once- let them cool first), and the peppers nearly so, the garlic golden and the onions browned. It will take 10 or 15  minutes. Mash the garlic into a puree with some salt, remove the cores of the tomatoes, and puree everything- including paper-thin, crisp, fragile and blackened skins in the blender until it is the texture you like. 

Beautiful black flecks are a smoky confetti in our rich red soup.

*Mama Roux is fabulous and is opening a barbeque restaurant soon and also has a talented and creative and passionate chef- here he is, talking about his research and experiments-

Chef Vasilis Sporos in front of Mama Roux

**there are excellent kitchen blow torches available at any culinary supply. But mine is a blowtorch from the hardware store- cheap, basic, given to uneven burst of flame that keep me on my toes, and best of all easy to refill- it takes a gas canister from the supermarket, just like the camping gas we use for Greek coffee. 

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Cream of Cauliflower Soup- March is Winter's Bone

March is rough. It's fine to muse on the waxing and waning of the seasons and the cycle of life, but philosophy is not going to get dinner on the table. Nature isn't, either. Greece has a share of troubles now, but there is always the generosity of nature. It's hard to feel worried and poor in the abundance of the weekly market- heaps of sparkling produce, a bounty that makes your arms ache. Except in March- not quite cold enough to turn on the heat but certainly not warm. A low gray sky nearly constantly, and nothing yet is in bloom. Last week's market was a poor sight- tired, colorless produce of little variety, picked over and the tables half empty by noon, and everything very expensive. The apples are less crisp, the oranges getting hollow, the herbs without vibrance, or even much scent. 

So, lent or no lent, I'm breaking out a can of milk. At least once a week we dine on whatever is around- no extra shopping- just fresh things and a little innovation. This was a handful of limp carrots, two potatoes, an onion, and a head of cauliflower that had lost its ivory glow and gone grayish. Nothing was past usefulness. Cosmetically, the cauliflower was not fit for steaming; the carrots without snap were not for eating raw, but they were still full of the sweetness of the cold weather vegetables. The dill and parsley had gone limp, but not yellowed. Their fragrance had ebbed, but on the plus side there was plenty of it. The creamy canned milk would smooth it all together, and make it more filling- turn this handful of sleepy vegetables into a meal, and an elegant one.

I scrubbed everything clean, then put the peelings and trimmings from all the vegetables in a pot- that's the core of the cauliflower, the outer 2 layers of the onion, peels of carrot and potato. I threw in all of the herb stems and most of the leaves, setting aside just a few to pretty up the soup. Also some peppercorns, a bay leaf, a garlic clove, and some salt. It needed just 15 minutes to simmer and there was a surprising amount of flavor to this impromptu stock- the rich, sweet, soothing flavor of winter. It was a little cloudy from the potato and a warm orange from the carrot. 

While it was simmering, I sauteed the onions in some butter in a larger pot: 

then added the diced potatoes and carrots in largish pieces:

I added the broth, gave these slower-cooking vegetables a five-minute head start, then added the cauliflower florets and the handful of herbs:

When the vegetables were tender. I pureed it with a stick blender, leaving some texture, and shamelessly added a can of evaporated milk just like it was 1965. I'm sure cream would be better, but this was really just fine. Everyone was warmed and sated, and anyway, what are you going to do with cherries when the sky is still so low and cold? We were happy with what we had, and if not exactly wealth, this is at least plenty.

p.s. wine is not always brilliant in cream things, but a half of a shot of hard liquor- whiskey in this case- gave glamour and depth.

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