Fish are Friends ... and Food

I’ve written about whole vegetables, whole prawns, even the whole parts of pudding. I have yet to write about whole Irish fish. At Chapter One we only receive whole, head-on fish. We do this first and foremost because it is cheaper, but there are several smaller perks to dealing in whole fish: you can portion fillets more specifically; you can use the bones for fish stocks; you can dry skins and turn them into fish “salts;” and you can use fish trimmings for a fantastic staff meal of fish pie. I look forward to whole fish arrivals because I have begun to personify each variety. So without further ado, let me introduce a few of my new fish friends…
Monkfish
There is no hiding a monkfish when he comes to your door. These bottom-dwellers can weigh up to 100 lbs. We usually receive small varieties – only 20-30 lbs each! – but even a small monkfish will require the better part of a stainless steel counter top to clean and fillet. You can almost feel their wet, oozing flesh at the sound of their huge bodies (mostly head) being slapped up onto the counter. Brown and warty, whiskers popping out in all directions, the unsightly under-bite of a monkfish face is unforgettable. Their heads are so large, they actually hide small fillets inside their cheek bones. Monkfish fillets are narrow strips of very thick flesh. Almost gelatinous in texture and very bland in flavor, we cook our fillets in airtight bags with butter, thyme and small strips of smoked bacon trim. We place these flavorful pouches in a hot water bath letting the flesh tenderize in the fat, soaking up flavor and taking on a more palatable texture. When a monkfish is ordered, we’ll bust open a pouch and throw the fillet on the fish grill for some color before its final plate appearance.
Cod
Common along most of Ireland’s coast, cod mystifies me because it almost always available and yet never taken for granted among Irish consumers. Even at a Chipper stall, the Cod Meal will often cost two or three euro more than say, Haddock or Hake. Higher winter prices may reflect consumer demand, but they may also reflect the labor-intensive reality of “shore fishing” – the primary means of harvesting winter cod. Inexplicable pricing aside, there is nothing mystifying about the popularity of a fresh fillet of Cod. It is absolutely lovely. Unlike the almost mealy flesh of the “Scrod” or “Whitefish” that you might receive as “Cod” in the United States, a fillet of wild Irish Cod is a foot of tender white turf. Perfectly lubricated by natural fish oils, each light bite slides away from the next at the touch of your fork. To cook cod perfectly is to cook undetectably.

John Dory
Dory are deep sea fish and their arrival in the kitchen often feels like a visit from leaders of an exotic foreign tribe. There is nothing impressive about the size of a dory. It is more his ferocious appearance that leads even veteran cooks to waiver with their knives. Clothed in militant camouflage, the perimeter of his body is lined with thin spikes and there are giant spines protruding from his dorsal fin. He has microscopic sharp scales on the lower portion of his body and a large spot on one side that appears to be a yellow eye in the deep dark waters. Hunted only by desperately hungry sharks, dory are rigorous predators. I have been performing last rites for his various victims for weeks now. Small sardines, cuttlefish, even the occasional baby squid – I have found them all in the process of filleting dory. John Dory may be a brute when he arrives, but he becomes downright docile on the plate. Three thin fillets of meek white flesh delicately piled on creamy slices of braised Jerusalem artichoke.

And, of course, Salmon
When people imagine “fish” in a non-specific, Platonic sort of way, I think they are generally picturing salmon. These fish are aesthetically unparalleled in beauty. Their skin is a silver shine, nuanced by every hue in the rainbow. They are long, lean and balanced with fins in all the appropriate places. And when you cut them open, their flesh is a brilliant coral, sparkling with flavorful fish oils. Everyone knows when they come to Ireland that the wild-caught salmon may be the best in the world. In Ireland, however, you will be hard-pressed to find salmon in fillet form on a dining menu. Salmon is cured, smoked, and served in every kind of eating establishment, but it is rarely given as a grilled or braised fish “steak” like we do in the United States. At Chapter One we clean, fillet and cure two sides of salmon every day and I never grow weary of the show.

Salmon Gravlax, Chapter One
In a large stock pot bring to a boil:
2-2.5 K water
2 T white wine vinegar
200 g rock salt (sea salt)
800 g sugar
40 g black peppercorns
20 g star anise
10 cloves
2 bunches coriander (cilantro in the U.S.)

Remove from heat and add 2 bulbs of fennel, finely sliced.
Let mixture infuse and cool to room temperature.
Pour part of mixture into a large rectangular pan, lay in salmon side, and pour remaining mixture over salmon (flesh side up). Cover with plastic film. Let salmon marinate in refrigerator for 18 hours. Uncover salmon, remove from marinade and let dry (uncovered) for 24 hours.

Slice very thinly against the grain and serve with crackers, capers, crème fraiche, brown bread … you name it!