Recipe: Fish cutlets in vine ripened tomato sauce

2011 has been about practicing mindfulness thus far for me. To date it has kept me in the moment when dealing with a new landlord (oh don’t get me started on that, it could waste a perfectly delightful moment as I sit at my desk on a sunny day writing) and stopped me from feeling too sorry for myself while succumbing to an annoying bug.

This being in the moment lark is not always easy. I remember Stephanie Dowrick writing years ago in the Saturday Age about the mindfulness of washing dishes but to be honest I’d prefer to be anywhere else than in the moment when undertaking that menial chore.

I see shopping for seasonal food as a central tenet of my practice. Going to the market with no fixed ideas of what to cook means some surprises in my basket. I recently ate a lot of daikon – stretching my cooking repertoire to using the green leaves in soup, the root raw in salads as a replacement for radish and a foray into stir fries for the crunch texture. Last week it was a wander through the fish hall for the freshest looking produce at the most reasonable price.

I returned home with modestly sized but thick, snapper cutlets with not a clue about how I’d cook them. I’ve ranted before about the Australasian phobia for fish on the bone but like most flesh, this makes it taste sweeter. The snapper is blessed with a medium sized spine with thickish ribs, making them an ideal fish to eat whole. The cutlets are also encased in omega rich skin so the whole piece is like a tidy package that stays together well when cooking. This is the ideal cut for those who can’t get through an entire fish or are working their way up to dealing emotionally with the beast. Being headless there are no eyes to distract the squeamish fish lover.

Fish cutlets are great to poach and stew as they keep their shape. With the garden bearing a host of love apples, tomatoes feature in much of what I'm cooking at the moment. I’m not sure the genesis of this recipe, finding none that fitted the bill, it came together from fragments of memory and imagination. Flying by the seat of my pants, in the moment, it turned out perfectly.


Fish in tomato and olive sauce
(serves 2)

2 tabs olive oil
2 large fish cutlets (or 4 small)
1 cup fish stock (vegetable or chicken stock would do)
1/2 cup white wine (optional)
A pinch of saffron threads, soaked in 2 tabs hot water
1 onion, chopped
A touch of chili, for subtle warmth (optional)
2-4 cloves of garlic (the more the better)
3-4 large, ripe tomatoes (or a cup or two of canned crushed tomatoes)
A decent handful, green beans, top and tailed
10 black olives (I like Kalamata)
Salt and pepper to season

Soak your saffron threads in a little hot water or stock.

Heat a heavy bottomed fry pan to medium to high, add half the olive oil and fry the fish for a minute or two both sides. This is to seal and colour the fish rather than to cook through. Put aside once seared.

Add the rest of the oil to the pan and sauté chopped onion. Because I was going to blitz the fresh tomatoes in the food processor I did the onions and garlic in it first, a great shortcut for a tired cook. Stir frequently ‘til translucent, then add the garlic and chili. After a minute or two pour in the crushed/blitzed tomatoes (mine were grand lisse still warm from the garden and perfectly ripe) wine and stock. If using warm stock, add the saffron to it for 10 minutes first, otherwise soak the saffron in warm water and add with the stock. This recipe works fine with just stock and no wine, though the alcohol adds depth of flavour. Reduce heat to a gentle simmer. After 5 minutes or so add the olives, green beans and fish. Depending on the thickness of the cutlets poach in the tomato sauce for 4-5 minutes each side ‘til cooked through.

Taste and season as required. Serve on rice or with crusty bread.

In the moment, my thoughts were on eating not photography. But feast your eyes on part of this morning's Tommy Toe haul.

random kitchen post

I've got so much junk on my small kitchen bench that I'm too intimidated to post a picture. At least half are vitamins and herbs. You choose, am I healthy, sick or just neurotic?

But there are a few goodies.

The latest batch of preserved lemons are made Diana Henry (Crazy Water Pickled Lemons) style. Press the salted lemons in the jar, weighted, for a few days to let the juice come out. Then add lemon juice to cover, coriander seeds, bay leaves and cinnamon quills. Seal with oil. I couldn't help myself and added some black peppercorns too.

Beside it sits the remains of a very fine dessert wine. My father found two bottles in his "cellar" (while the basement under the garage is relatively cool, it's far too damp) a year ago and was going to throw them out. "They're old", he said "and sweet!". His loss was my gain. Oh so good.

The remains of some marinated olives are ready for topping up again. They taste even better gently warmed.



Finally got the knife rack up on the wall, thanks to the man-with-power-tools being in residence once more. I love the $6 Victorinox paring knives and the curled tip of my grandmother's grapefruit knife. The Brazilian all purpose beauty has served me well for over a decade now.



Is your kitchen counter a minimalist dream or full of clutter?

vignettes

What you need comes to you

I tripped off to the new(ish) Fitzroy market on Saturday before Armageddon hit. It reminded me of Glebe market when I first went there twenty-something years ago. Smaller. But Has Promise.

The rent from the stalls at the market goes to Fitzroy School’s Kitchen Garden project. That’s reason enough to support it.

A couple of days before I’d made a batch of marinated olives. Carbon dating the original recipe*, I scribbled it down and first made them in the mid ‘80s. It’s a simple concoction – a few herbs, good Kalamata olives, a decent olive oil. I’d assembled the marinade bar one vital ingredient – a couple of bay leaves. Too bad I thought, I'm sure it will be ok without it. And forgot about it.

At the Fitzroy market my eyes fell upon a big tub of laurel branches, a generous stallholder giving them away. Take two they urged. No one’s enough there’s so many leaves on the branch. A nice chat, then off home with the lush foliage peeking out of my bag.

The missing bay leaves, fresh and vibrant, now added to the marinated olives.





Follow your instincts

Before I skipped out the door in the last of the sunlight, I’d put the tagine in the laundry tub to soak. The terracotta pot, when not used every day, needs a bit of a dip, time to dry and then a rub with oil to season it before cooking.

At lunchtime I whipped up a simple vegetable tagine with a big dob of harissa from my freshly harvested chillies, threw in some left over green olives and gently put it in a cold oven. The plan was to cook it all afternoon on very low (about 125C) and forget about it til dinner.

With the sun still high in the sky but feeling a little lazy after my morning wander, I drove rather than walked the kilometre or so up the road and submitted myself to a much needed massage.

Relaxed and a little dazed I stumbled out onto the darkened street and wondered where I was. Had I been transported to a winter’s afternoon in London? Not even 3 and the sky was so dark, every car had its lights on. Coming back to my senses, I was full of foreboding and started driving home. In the short trip the sky opened and pelted me with hail. It was a storm on monolithic proportions.

Safely inside, the house was infused with the aroma of the slow cooking tagine, locals tweeted amazing images of impromptu rivers running down city streets, hail stones the size of lemons and general chaos.

It was quite a storm.

And quite a tagine!


veggie tagine ready for a long slow cook: eggplant, pumpkin, leeks, fennel, green olives, parsnip, homegrown cherry tomatoes and harissa

Seasons

I don’t need a calendar to know when autumn has arrived. Nor look for fallen leaves to crunch under my feet. Autumn officially begins the morning I awake craving porridge (oatmeal) and when I get the urge to make a big pot of soup.

Today is the day. Goodbye summer. Farewell asparagus. See you later berries. Bring on the pumpkin!

Porridge for breakfast (with crushed nuts and maple syrup) and a pot of autumn vegetables and bean soup cooking on the stove.

I'm ready!


*Marinated olives


The original recipe
(Source unknown)
2 c Kalamata olives
1 c olive oil
3 cloves garlic, crushed
2-3 dried red chillies, crushed
2 bay leaves

Mix ingredients in a bowl then transfer to a sterilized jar. Marinate for 1 week, stirring occaisionally. Use the marinade for salad dressings etc or reuse.

My version
In a clean jar combine fresh chillies, black pepper corns, bay leaves and lots of garlic with the best quality olives and olive oil you can find. Keep out of direct light, at room temperature and try to resist eating them for at least a week. Shake the jar daily.