Fish

A delicate and subtle preparation that can also be made with monkfish, striped bass, sea bass, or other firm-fleshed fish. Serve with Braised Leeks (page 465).

The fish equivalent of classic beef stew, and definitely a winter dish,with its base of root vegetables. You can, of course, vary the vegetables according to what you have in your pantry—cauliflower, zucchini, eggplant, and even okra will work well. The stew should be very thick, not really soupy at all; so though you may add water as necessary while cooking, be sure not to add too much. Since the fish is added when the vegetables are just about done, you can substitute almost any white-fleshed fish or even shellfish. Just adjust the cooking time as necessary. Serve this on top of rice or with crusty bread.

Spring through fall, you may be able to find wild Alaska king or sockeye salmon (if you live in the Northwest or even on the West Coast, this won’t be a problem), and that is ideal for this dish. Farm-raised salmon, available year-round everywhere, is certainly an acceptable substitute, but it is fattier and has less flavor, so it’ll make a bit more of a mess when you brown it, and it will not stand up quite as well to the sauce. Serve this with short-grain rice (page 507).

This is a more complicated use of miso, useful not only for fish but for meat (just substitute tenderloin for the tuna). I learned it from Japanese-born chef Tadashi Ono, who now lives in New York. His dual lives encouraged Ono to take a few liberties of the type that few would take in Japan, with a classic sauce like this one; but if this is fusion cooking, it’s the good kind. The Japanese chili paste called tohbanjan is strictly traditional here, but you can use Vietnamese or Korean chili paste or simply cayenne. I love this with Basmati Rice with Shiso (page 510).

A wonderful technique and combination of flavors that works so well with swordfish that I would be reluctant to substitute (Spanish mackerel, usually quite difficult to find, would be a good alternative). If you’re unfamiliar with lemongrass, trim its ends, then slit and peel its tough outer layer to expose the tender core; you usually get about 1 tablespoon from each stalk. See page 500 for information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla). Sticky Rice (page 508) is the thing here, along with a lightly dressed salad or very simple vegetable dish.

A quick and simple dish, one that produces a beautiful sauce to use on white rice. Halibut is ideal here, but swordfish steaks are great too, and you can even make this preparation with thick white fillets of grouper, red snapper, or sea bass. Use dashi (which can be prepared in just a few minutes) if at all possible, chicken stock if not.

A fine recipe for fish steaks, from halibut to Spanish mackerel, even swordfish (it’s also good with shrimp or scallops). The lemongrass is essential if you want authentic flavor, though the dish will be good without it, because the real keys are the quickly made caramel and an abundance of black pepper, which is used more in Vietnam than any place I’ve ever been. See page 500 for information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla). Serve with plain white rice.

“Russian Sauce” is probably the origin of Russian dressing, though the two no longer have much in common; still, the pickles and capers mark the relationship. This is most traditionally made with sturgeon (which is a wonderfully sturdy and flavorful fish) but can be made with any firm white fillet, from carp, catfish, or sturgeon to red snapper, sea bass, or grouper. Serve with boiled potatoes or plain white rice.

Remember fish dishes baked with canned cream of mushroom soup? This is the original, and you may not believe how good it is. Never buy dried porcini in the tiny packages sold at stores. A package should contain at least an ounce, and the mushrooms should look like mushrooms, not powder. Given that you can buy a pound of dried porcini for as little as $25 (look on the Internet), you should expect to pay no more than $5 for an ounce. Serve this with buttered rice or noodles.

An unexpected but delicious use for hard-cooked eggs that, of course, can be made in advance. If you have fish stock, poach the fish in it, but if you don’t, don’t worry about it. Serve this with plain boiled potatoes.

Think of this as a simpler take on paella. It’s Eastern European in origin, so it was often made with freshwater fish, but you can use any fillets you want. With a salad, this is a wonderful—and very fast—one-pot meal. If you’re using water instead of stock, you might augment its flavor slightly by simmering it for 15 minutes with a carrot, an onion, and a celery stalk, along with a few peppercorns, a garlic clove, a bay leaf, and a teaspoon of vinegar; strain before proceeding. If you don’t have time for this, that’s fine too—the dish will still be good, even if you just use water.

Sour cream sauce is standard throughout Eastern Europe, and it’s not as bland as you might think or as you might have experienced. The dish should be quite sour, for one thing, and a bit hot—if your paprika has little flavor, either buy a new supply or spike it with cayenne—and it should be finished with fresh herbs. Serve this over rice or buttered noodles or with crusty bread.

Do not skimp on the olive oil here; its flavor is integral. Really, this is escarole braised in olive oil, an extremely useful and wide-ranging technique. You can omit the anchovies if you like or add pine nuts (about 1/4 cup), raisins (1/4 cup), pitted black or green olives (about 1/2 cup), or about 1/2 cup chopped tomato. You can also use wine or stock in place of the water, for a richer taste. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: this is a classic and basic recipe that can be used for almost any green or in fact for “harder” vegetables like cauliflower or broccoli, following exactly the same procedure. Cooking time will vary.

This dish sparks a vision of an ice fisher on a frozen Eastern European lake, bringing home a fresh carp, combining it with two of that region’s winter staples—bacon and sauerkraut—and roasting it over a hot fire. What a treat that must have been and what a relief from what might have been months without any fresh meat or fish at all. It’s a great dish in a warm winter kitchen in the twenty-first century, too. Use sauerkraut that is fresh or packed in plastic (never canned), which contains no more than cabbage and salt; real sauerkraut needs no preservatives. Serve the dish with mashed or boiled potatoes.

The ideal fish for this Norman preparation is Dover sole—the real thing, a fish with great flavor and unmatched texture. But this isn’t an ideal world—you’re unlikely to find Dover sole and equally unlikely to want to pay the asking price if you do. Fortunately, cod is a good substitute. In fact, as long as you don’t overcook it, it’s fantastic here. Any firm but not tough white fillet will also work: red snapper and black sea bass are excellent choices. If you can pick up mussels at the same time, by all means go for the variation; the broth and overall results will be improved markedly. In Normandy, this would inevitably be accompanied by a potato gratin like the one on page 482 and, if you were lucky, a salad.

People cook food in packages all over the world—the tamale counts as one, too—but leave it to the Italians to do it simply. In Rome, you would have this with bass or turbot, but really it can be made with any fillet you like. Cooking in packages requires a small leap of faith to determine that the food is done, because once you open the packages you want to serve them. This method has always worked well for me.

I had this dish in Genoa, which is near Albenga, a part of Liguria best known for its artichokes. All the work is in preparing the artichokes, and the results are fantastic. In true Ligurian fashion, you might begin this meal with Pasta with White Clam Sauce (page 99) or Pansotti (page 550).

You find this dish, or one like it, everywhere there is salt cod—which is to say, almost everywhere in the North Atlantic and parts of the Mediterranean. I like the Spanish version, which is reminiscent of a strong pasta sauce. In fact, thinned just a bit, this would make an excellent sauce for pasta, though I still prefer it with crusty bread. You can poach almost any fish in this sauce—any white-fleshed fish will work, though cod is the most obvious and logical choice—but it will never have the character brought to the table by salt cod, especially if you take the time to fry it first, as in the variation.

Like so many other cultures that have traditionally relied on salt cod, that of the Basque region of Spain and France still cherishes the flavor. This stew is one of the region’s best-known dishes, and it’s a good one. Like most stews, it’s terrific when made a day ahead of time and reheated. Serve with rice or crusty bread or boiled potato.

Almonds grow abundantly in Spain—you see the trees throughout the South and easily find fresh almonds, which are a rarity here—and play an integral role in many dishes, offering a rich flavor and body to sauces. This dish is a perfect weeknight offering, but it’s also a fine main course at a dinner party. I like monkfish here, but striped bass, grouper, red snapper, and black sea bass are all suitable; each will cook at slightly varying rates (the monkfish will take the most time, red snapper the least). This is wonderful over either white rice or a pilaf (page 513) or with crusty bread.