Fish

Sardines are not sold fresh as often as they might—or should—be. But when they are, and they’re in good shape (make sure they don’t look tired and old), they’re worth grabbing. Fresh anchovies or smelts make a good substitute, again as long as they’re gleaming. All of these little fish may be sold gutted, but if yours are whole, simply make a slit along the belly of each and, under running water, run your finger along the inside cavity to remove the innards. (You can eat them with their guts too, as many Europeans do; they’re delicious that way.) Though I usually “grill” these in the broiler, they can also be cooked over a fire, using a fish basket, just until browned on each side. You can also fry sardines; treat them as you would Fritto Misto (page 94), and serve them with any light tomato sauce, like Fast, Fresh Tomato Sauce (page 606).

This combination of crusty potatoes and salty anchovies will either appeal to you enormously or make no sense. One of the best-known dishes in Sweden, it’s served at almost every holiday party—logically, if you ask me, because it’s great snack food. It makes a good side dish for a hearty roast as well.

Quenelles, like gefilte fish (page 36), are fish balls, but they are elegant fish balls, containing cream, herbs, and butter. As a result, they’re more expensive and more caloric than gefilte fish, but faster and easier to make. Also like gefilte fish, they traditionally were made from freshwater fish (especially pike), but you can use any delicate white-fleshed fish you like. This is a big, fancy first course, best followed with something light and simple, unless you’re planning an elegant dinner. Chervil is the best possible herb to use here, but it is almost always difficult to find; dill is the standard second choice.

Crisp-fried ladyfish are a specialty in India, and even though ladyfish themselves are part of the reason they’re so great and we don’t see them here, we can come pretty close to duplicating the dish; both batter and marinade are spicy, distinctive, and exciting. Plan on serving immediately.

Like Tempura (page 91), the Fritto Misto batter and technique can be used with almost any morsel of food. An old-fashioned Fritto Misto might have bits of veal or other meat, frog’s legs, cock’s combs, artichoke hearts, chanterelles or other mushrooms, zucchini or other vegetables, pieces of cheese, and, of course, fish. These days, it seems most people—including me—like a fish-based Fritto Misto, with perhaps a few pieces of vegetable thrown in. I have some suggestions here, but please use whatever you like. Because you’ll have to fry in batches, and because it’s good only when very hot, it’s best to serve Fritto Misto as an appetizer and usually only to those guests who are willing to stand around in the kitchen. I don’t think Fritto Misto needs more than fresh lemon as a “sauce,” but you can use aïoli or even a light tomato sauce if you like.

These traditional bite-sized treats are served as a starter or a snack throughout the Caribbean (and, for that matter, in parts of Europe). They must be served hot: I recommend that you serve them to your guests while they’re standing around the stove and let them eat them with their fingers (or on toothpicks). If you want to serve them at the table, consider Aïoli (page 603) as a dipping sauce. Or you can follow Moorish traditions and serve them with honey or molasses.

Everyone knows about sweet crêpes (page 645), but visitors to France quickly become addicted to these—the classic snack food of Brittany—especially the ham-and-cheese variation. Traditionally, the batter sits for an hour before starting to cook. As long as you plan ahead a bit, that shouldn’t be a problem. But in a pinch you can skip the resting period—it doesn’t make too much difference—and overall these are easy to make and great as savory starters or a light lunch or supper.

Tod mun—Thai fish cakes—are usually made with mackerel or other dark-fleshed fish, but shrimp are just as good, and most of my friends seem to prefer them made this way. Both mackerel and shrimp have enough natural gelatin to hold together without egg or bread crumbs or mashed potatoes or any of the other binders necessary in so many fish cakes. In fact, they have so much natural gelatin that if you over process the fish it becomes rubbery, which in fact is characteristic of tod mun. My little trick—of pureeing some of the fish and simply chopping the rest—keeps it a little softer; you can do it either way. If you make these with shrimp, they can also be grilled. See page 500 for information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla).

Like Moroccan briouat, Tunisian briks use warka, a phyllolike wrapper, to contain a filling. This one is most commonly filled with a whole egg—a spicy sort of poached egg in a thin, crisp shell—rather great. Tuna is a nice complement to the egg filling, but you can do without it. These are best eaten hot, but beware of egg running onto your shirt—which is exactly what happened to me. If you use warka or phyllo, keep it covered with a damp cloth while you work. Egg roll wrappers need no special treatment, but they’re not as thin or crisp.

In Sweden these little fish “sandwiches” are made with Baltic herring, but you can make them with any small fish from which you can remove the backbone, such as smelts, anchovies, and sardines (the names of all of these fish are confused anyway—many true herring and anchovies are called sardines and vice versa). To bone these fish, grasp the head and pull straight down; most of the innards will come out along with it; use your thumb to open the fish up from the front, then grasp the backbone and remove. You’ll be left with two tiny fillets joined by the skin. Plan to make eight of these—four sandwiches—for each serving if you make them as a main course.

Salt cod is an ancient food, the result of a need to preserve plentiful catch while still at sea. It has been used in many different ways, but one of the greatest is brandade de morue, a Provençal classic that is rich, filling, and truly special. Though salt cod isn’t available everywhere, it can be found in many supermarkets, without much trouble, and making brandade is easier than ever thanks to the food processor (use a mortar and pestle if you insist on tradition). Brandade can be served with crusty bread, spread on Crostini (page 41), or stuffed into roasted tomatoes or peppers, especially piquillo peppers (page 492 or 47).

A classic Niçoise appetizer that is like fondue—a “warm bath”—of anchovies, garlic, and olive oil (you can use butter in place of some of the olive oil if you’re feeling indulgent), served with fresh raw vegetables. It’s an unusual dish by today’s standards but remains a wonderful combination. A fondue pot is the ideal serving vessel, because it’s important to keep the sauce hot at the table; an earthenware dish that retains heat well will work if you preheat it and serve the Bagna Cauda immediately.

It’s quite possible that nothing has ever sounded worse to you, but believe me, nearly everyone who tries these crisp, salty, sweet tidbits falls in love with them (some prefer the less assaultive Thai version in the preceding recipe). Best served as a little nibble, but hard to stop eating once you start, these rank as one of my favorite snacks to accompany an ice-cold beer or cold sake (or some soju, the deceptively mild Korean vodka). Buy the smallest dried anchovies (page 25) you can find for this dish, preferably no more than an inch or so long.

Like the nut and bean preparations on pages 27–28, these savory crisp snacks from Southeast Asia (closely related to the similar recipe from Korea that follows) can be eaten out of hand. Also like them, they’re great with beer. Though unfamiliar to some people, they’re instantly liked by most. (You can buy dried baby anchovies—described on page 25—at most Asian, and some Latin, markets.) In Thailand, they’re sometimes tossed with Fried Peanuts (page 27), a lovely little combo.

A street snack of Central America and the Caribbean, empanadas can really be filled with anything you have on hand. This recipe and its variations offer several of the traditional fillings. Masa harina can be found at most supermarkets and Latin grocery stores. It adds a nice crunch to the dough, but regular flour works well, too.

Peppers and anchovies are a delicious standby appetizer, and when you use piquillos (page 47) and good anchovies (page 25)—packed in olive oil—they become even better. If you think using the garlic this way may be too strong for your tastes, simply cut a clove in half and rub the bread with it, then discard—or omit the garlic altogether.

Piquillos have so much going for them. Not only is their color stunning, their skin thin, and their flavor a near-perfect blend of sweet and hot, but one couldn’t bioengineer a better shape for stuffing. To precook the fish, simply put it in salted water to cover, bring the water to a boil, and turn off the heat. By the time the water cools, the fish will be done.

The hardest part of this dish, these days, is finding fresh herring—which is astonishing, because a large percentage of the world’s supply is caught off our shores and shipped elsewhere. In the countries bordering the North Sea, however, it is celebrated, and if you can find it here—it’s in fish markets from time to time—this is a great treatment, an essential part of any smorgasbord, but also wonderful served with sour cream (“creamed herring”) and boiled potatoes. If the herring is whole, ask your fishmonger to fillet it for you.

Traditionally made with freshwater fish—carp, whitefish, and pike—this is just as good with fish from the sea. You can even mix in some darker fish, like bluefish and salmon, although it is not traditional. Equally untraditional is the food processor, which makes this formerly formidable job a snap. Good, strong horseradish is the essential accompaniment. Make this a day before you want to serve it.

Along with Spanish food in general, these have become increasingly popular in the States, and they’re fun, rewarding, and easy to make at home. Of course, the key is to begin with superfresh anchovies, and we are finally seeing more of these. (You can use the same method with fresh thin fillets of mackerel, a more common fish, or with smelts, which can be handled the same way as the anchovies.) These are good served on buttered toast or crackers and passed as a snack. You might wonder why your boquerones are not as white as those sold in restaurants; it’s because you’re not using a bleaching agent.