The Kitchen Counter Cooking School (33 page)

Just then, Maggie clapped her hands. “Ladies? We have some salmon for you to taste.”

Ted had sautéed five pieces and placed them in a line from least to most expensive: farm-raised Atlantic,
³⁰
keta,
³¹
sockeye, coho, and king. Side by side, they looked remarkably different. The keta and Atlantic versions appeared pale, while the sockeye was a vivid orange-red, its denser meat marked by thick waves. The coho was almost magenta. Meanwhile, the king had the deep color of a ripe peach with a softer texture.

The group was torn on their favorite. Some preferred the “classic” salmon taste of the sockeye. Others thought the coho was more complex. “The king tastes buttery, if you can say that about a fish,” Dri said. The keta and the farm-raised Atlantic were judged “meh” by the group.

As a group, we contemplated the uncooked salmon, halibut, and black cod fillets set out on the table atop a bed of ice. “The most important thing to remember is that fresh fish doesn't smell fishy,” Ted said. “Take a whiff. What do you smell?” All the women leaned in. Among the responses: cucumbers, cantaloupe, sea air, the brine of an oyster. “See? No one said ‘fishy.' Those are all nice, clean fragrances. That's how fresh fish should smell,” he said.

Whether you buy fish at a grocery store or a dedicated market, you should ask to smell the fish first. If it's still whole, you should be able to touch it.

“If the guy at the counter doesn't grant letting you smell it without question, find another place to buy your fish,” Ted said. “Since smelling it is so important, try not to buy it wrapped in plastic. Ideally, you want to eat fish the day you buy it.” If you must store whole fish, put it belly down in crushed ice, and remove the water as it melts to keep the fish relatively dry. “If you don't live somewhere where you can get good fresh seafood, fish that's been flash-frozen on the boat is a great option. That's true of shrimp, too.”

As consumers, we can be part of the problem or part of the solution based on what we opt to buy. I handed out copies of the pocket guide to buying fish from Seafood Watch.
³²
The card offers suggestions ranked as “Best Choices,” “Good Alternatives,” and “Avoid.” Everyone perused the cards. We reviewed the fish on the table in front of us. Good choices included the wild-caught Alaskan salmon and halibut and the trout. Bad choice? The farm-raised Atlantic salmon.

I told the group that former
Gourmet
editor Ruth Reichl made a comment at a conference I attended that stuck with me. “You only get to vote for a president once every four years,” Reichl said. “But you get to vote three times a day, every day, with your dollar.”

Ted picked up on that. “Exactly. Ask questions. Ask them, ‘Is this fresh? Is it frozen? Where is it from? How is it caught?' I personally try to avoid eating shrimp from Asia if I can help it. If that's the only kind of shrimp available, I change my meal plans.”

Someone else asked about the constant refrain that eating too much fish leads to mercury poisoning. Longer-living large fish such as tuna tend to be more susceptible to mercury contamination. “I recently heard that one good rule is to avoid eating any fish that's longer than your arm,” I said. “Smaller fish are good both for you and for the environment. Anchovies and sardines are wicked good for you.” As with the beef discussion, we could have gone on all night. But it was time to cook. First, the crew dutifully spent a few minutes chopping up all the necessary vegetables for the class. As they did, they chatted.

“Oh, you'll find this funny,” Jodi said, clearly fine with her confessional mode now. “We were cleaning out the garage and we found one of those appliances to make roast chicken. I had forgotten about it. But now it seems strange to think that we once bought a
machine
to make roast chicken knowing what I know now.”

Sabra said that she and a friend had started to cook together once a week. “Yeah, it's pretty cool. My friend comes over and we cook. This week we made beef stew and it was pretty awesome.” Then she looked around. “Oh, is that it? No more vegetables?”

We started with a dish that I learned from an Italian friend I met in London. In a roasting pan, I added handfuls of freshly sliced red pepper, onion, asparagus stalks, garlic, and chopped black olives and covered them generously with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

“Basically, you just roast a whole bunch of vegetables, and then you nestle some fish into it,” I said. “I've done it with chicken breasts, too.” I put them in a hot oven to roast. “Okay, Ted, you're up.”

He slapped his hands together. “Now let's fire up some fish!” He grabbed a sauté pan and heated it over one of the portable burners on the worktable. As with chicken, it's key to start it on high heat and cook it quickly to get the center hot. Ted turned up the heat on the burner and added a small pool of oil to the skillet. He coated a small halibut fillet in some flour. “This will help release it from the pan.” He slapped the fillet into the skillet and it popped and hissed loudly as it hit the oil. Ted talked loudly over the sizzle. It sounded like incessant static. “Always cook the presentation side first. If there's skin, then you put the side
without
skin down first. It will get the most even heat and so it will be nicely browned.”

He gave the pan a quick shake. “I'm sure you've heard this before, but if you shake right after you put it in, then it's not going to stick.” He watched it closely. After about five minutes, the bottom and edges of the translucent white fish shifted to opaque. He flipped the fillet over, covered it, and turned off the heat. “For a fillet that's less than an inch thick, the heat of the pan will cook it through. Let it continue for about the same amount of time you did the other side.”

“Now you need just one tool to see if the fish is done,” he said, and held up his right index finger. Theatrically and with great purpose, he slowly brought it down to the top of the fish.

“It should feel firm in the center and hot to the touch.” He took a fork and pulled off a section “When it comes away in layers like this, that's called ‘flaking.' That's what you want.” He slid the fish onto a plate.

“Now we'll make a quick sauce in the same pan.” He turned the heat back on. “See, there's flour stuck to the bottom of the pan.” He held it up for everyone to see. “This is what we call ‘
fond
.' It means foundation in French. This stuff has a lot of flavor.”

He poured in a bit of white wine and it steamed immediately. “When you put cold liquid into a hot pan to release the fond, it's called ‘deglazing.' I'll tell you a trick, too. It's also a way to clean out a pan that's got a lot of gunk stuck to it.” He added some sliced onions, zucchini, and red bell pepper, then seasoned them with salt and pepper. After a couple of minutes, he poured it over the fish. “And bang! It's done.” He clanged the pan down onto the counter. He topped the fish with some chopped basil.

“This is simple and fast. Learn to do this and you can cook a sauce from stuff in your fridge in fifteen minutes. If you don't drink wine or don't have it, a little stock, extra lemon juice, or lime juice will work, too.”

Everyone tasted his dish. “Delicious!” Trish said. “I normally find halibut so boring. This is nice. And moist; the sauce really adds to it.”

Dri asked if the flavor kisses we learned for chicken could work, too.

“Sure, it's the same concept,” I said. “You can try it out right now. Everyone, get a partner.”

Watching people cook week after week, I observed something interesting. On their own, the volunteers seemed tentative. When asked to pair in teams, the lesson went quickly and they experimented more freely. Perhaps it was the collaborative nature of cooking with someone else, or maybe it just felt like a safety net for any gaps in knowledge or confidence, or possibly both. It made me wonder if perhaps people ought to cook together more often, to spend some time socializing as they tackle a recipe. Sabra had mentioned that she had started to cook with a friend once a week. Perhaps we should all be meeting for a “cooking break” rather than coffee? Maybe mothers could cook together while their children have playdates.

My attention went back to the activity of the kitchen as each team grabbed a skillet. They carefully selected fillets as if they were either precious jewels or plastic explosives. Dri again took up residence at the big stove, with Donna working by her side. Dri felt confident with the high heat. When she saw Donna shrink back, Dri encouraged her to take over cooking the fish. They finished, each testing it with their index finger. Then they made a quick sauce with garlic, green onions, and sticks of red pepper and zucchini. As they poured it atop their fillet, they could not contain their enthusiasm.

“Check this out! We made this. It could be in a magazine.” They were so proud, I got my camera and took their photo.

Sabra and Gen finished their fish so quickly that I never even saw them cook it at all. “We're just pros, that's why,” Sabra explained as they nibbled at their fish. Jodi and Andra took the endeavor seriously, carefully navigating each of the steps. Ted teamed up with Trish.

“But how will I know when it's done? I don't know what it's supposed to feel like,” Trish asked him. He advised that touching it regularly as it cooked to feel how the fish firmed helps to “train” the ever-sensitive index finger. Like anything, the way to cook fish well is to just do it.

As everyone finished their sauté, I pulled the roasted vegetables from the oven. They'd been in for about ten minutes. “So here's the deal. The vegetables are partially cooked. Now all you have to do is place a piece of fish on top and cover it with some hot vegetables.” I laid a long piece of halibut in the center and scooped some of the vegetables over it. “We'll let it roast for another fifteen or twenty minutes and then see how it's doing.”

Next, we moved onto cooking
en papillote,
or cooking in paper, a technique wildly overlooked in American households as a simple and fast cooking method, not to mention that it requires no pans, and leaves no dishes to clean. The process is simple. Put a little oil on a large piece of parchment or foil, then add some salt and pepper. Lather a thin fillet of fish with oil or butter and salt and pepper, and then add finely sliced or diced vegetables, some herbs, a bit of wine, perhaps some citrus or vinegar. Fold the parchment or foil in two and crimp the edges tightly. Put it in the oven for fifteen minutes at 400°F. This also works for thin slices of chicken.

“You want to keep the vegetables small so they cook quickly and keep the fish or chicken sliced thin,” Ted explained. Then he demonstrated how to close the sides by thoroughly pinching and squeezing the edges together with his fingers. “Be sure to get a nice, tight seal so that the moisture stays trapped inside. It bakes and steams at the same time.”

Each team went to work. I wandered around the table to see what they assembled with their choice of thin fillets of black cod, salmon, or snapper. Jodi and Andra added lime, ginger, shallots, rice wine vinegar, a touch of fish sauce, and chopped basil. Jen and Sabra flavored theirs with diced cherry tomatoes, finely chopped zucchini, minced garlic, chopped dill, and lemon. Dri and Donna debated. “Hmmm, would balsamic work or would it be too strong a flavor?” Dri mused. Donna thought about it.

“Let's think about what we like. The olives look good. What would go with them?”

“Tomatoes,” Dri offered. From there, they each took some of the sliced vegetables to chop them even more finely. Their fish looked beautiful topped with diced olives, red peppers, onions, shallots, and basil and christened with wine and a touch of white balsamic vinegar.

Each team wrote their names on their paper packets and slid them onto a baking sheet. I pulled out the vegetables with fish and set them on the side table. “Wow, that looks amazing,” Andra said. “Smells good, too.” I slid the trays with the parchment into the oven.

Everyone chatted, tasting one another's food and the vegetable-roasted fish. “It's all so good, and so easy,” Gen said as she sampled her own sautéed piece. “I think that I am truly going to start tackling fish more often.”

About fifteen minutes later, Maggie pulled the paper-cooked fish from the oven. Each team carefully retrieved their hot portion and settled it onto a plate. On my signal, they opened their packets in unison by slashing them with a knife. Steam escaped from each and the collective smells burst around the room. Donna clapped her hands in delight.

“It's like opening a tasty present!” she exclaimed. Then the room went quiet as everyone ate. “I'm definitely doing this again!”

“No kidding, I'm doing it, too,” Cheryl said. “My husband will be knocked out by this.”

That evening made me think of that old saying “Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach him to fish and he'll eat for a lifetime.” That always struck me as such a cliché, but as I cleaned up that night I realized that these days, catching the fish isn't the issue, so teaching someone to simply cook it might accomplish the same thing.