Gone Fishin'

I did have a few minor restaurant dalliances this week, which I won't get too far into, since this post is primarily about cooking and not dining. Lunch with a friend (and on a friend) at Mary's Fish Camp yielded a perfectly sufficient lobster roll, though the hot dog bun could have used a bit more butter. It was literally bursting at the seams with lobster, certainly not something a New Englander complains about. Also, I finally found steamers in New York. Real steamers. Fragile and white-shelled steamer clams that need the sand washed off before you dip the suckers in butter. The portion was too small, but I'll live. I'll likely take another trip to Mary's in the future for a whole fish (they had several varieties, both roasted and flash fried). Lobster roll is one of those things you order when someone else is footing the bill.

Yesterday, I decided to tackle a fear of my own and prepare a whole fish at my house. I've never done this before and I disagreed with a lot of the recipes I read. I didn't want to cook en papillote, because I wanted a crispy skin on the fish. I also didn't want to blast it at 400 degrees because I had chosen fennel, a thick and fibrous vegetable, as one of the stuffing elements. I decided on a 350 medium-slow roast and a finish under the broiler.

One of the great things about living in Astoria is the fresh fish markets. I asked for a whole red snapper and was shown several. I settled on a 2lb fish (generally a pound lighter after de-boning) and asked the monger to clean it for me (gutting and de-scaling, basically). The same red snapper that went for $5.99/lb went for a whopping $14.99/lb at the fish market at Grand Central. Astoria is chef-friendly; Manhattan is not. Back home, I slit the skin so it wouldn't rip and stuffed it with things I had in the fridge: garlic, thyme, the fennel, nicoise olives, halved grape tomatoes, salt, pepper, and olive oil. The remaining items I placed around the fish in a baking dish. Then I let the whole thing rest in the refrigerator for a few hours.

I cut red bliss potatoes in half and covered them with thyme, salt, pepper, garlic, and olive oil in a separate baking dish. These went into the 350 degree oven twenty minutes before the fish. Once the fish went in, it was only twenty or so more minutes until the whole lot was ready for the broiler (larger fish obviously take longer; we were basically waiting on the fennel). I finished the fish off with some amontillado before browning it to deglaze the pan. The broiler browned the fish and potatoes, which were completely up to my high standards.

This fish was among the most aromatic and freshest I've had in a long time. We drank mint lemon-limeade with it, our own creation, made from a dozen lemons, a few limes, and a simple syrup made from cane sugar. My regret is that the mint turned brown. In the future, I might try blanching the mint first to preserve its color.

But all in all, this was a resounding (and resoundingly inexpensive) success.

Pork Chops And Applesauce

In exchange for some changed light bulbs (high ceilings/short human), I cooked dinner for a couple of friends last night.  I wanted something that would be hearty and that would make them grateful for having trekked out to the boroughs from the island.  I also wanted to make something that I could do a large slice of in advance.  

I brined a pork loin, my first foray into porcine preservation.  I chose a loin, not to be confused with the leaner tenderloin so often in attendance at parties.  My hefty hog weighed in around 24 ounces (one and a half pounds) with a half-inch layer of fat at the top.  To make the brine, I combined equal parts table salt and sugar over a low heat to dissolve, along with some standard aromatics (fresh rosemary and thyme, a quartered lemon, a few allspice berries, a few whole cloves, ten or so black peppercorns, a handful of whole mustard seeds, a half cup unsweetened applesauce).  When the brine had reached room temperature, I submerged the pork in the pot, weighing it down with a plate.  I left it in the refrigerator, turning it every six to eight hours, for two days.

Pork turns gray when it is brining.  This is not something to be concerned about; basically, it means that the salt has permeated the meat.  When I was ready to cook the pork, I removed it from the brine, patted it dry (no, I did not rinse it off first) and seared it in a frying pan.  I started fat side down to render some of the fat into cooking oil.  Having browned all sides, I put the loin in a roasting rack and large roasting pan, surrounded by fresh thyme, rosemary, and sage.  I glazed the pork with a mixture of molasses, whole grain mustard, and dijon mustard, every 10 to 15 minutes of cooking.  I went for a high heat, though there's tons of debate on this subject.  Four-hundred degrees for what turned out to be about forty minutes (I programed my digital meat thermometer to 150 degrees).  

With the rendered fat still in the frying pan, I tossed in two chopped shallots and cooked them until they were soft.  Next, I added one cup of whiskey and deglazed the now-browned pan.  I let the whiskey reduce for about seven or eight minutes and then added two and a half cups of chicken stock, one quarter cup of agave nectar, salt, and pepper.  I let this reduce for about ten minutes before adding a tablespoon of butter at the end.  

Sides included sweet and sour braised cabbage, fennel and Granny Smith apples, a slow-cooked dish that involved little more than a simmer of balsamic vinegar, agave nectar, whole grain mustard, red cabbage, fennel, julienned apples, garlic, onion, chicken stock, fresh sage, and caraway seeds.  I made mashed potatoes with skim milk and butter, topping them with nutmeg, a personal favorite.  They were admittedly watery.  I would use two percent or higher in the future.  To accompany the pork, I made an apple, onion, and celery butter that tasted delicious but never did quite come together in pats (for some reason, the materials separated; I'm still not sure why).  

The pork was very salty, but that was fine.  The caramelized glaze tempered any salt leftover from the brine.  It was also fairly moist, though not at all pink.  I'm wondering if I should have taken it out of the oven at 145 degrees and let it carry over to 150.  I'm not sure about that.  The meat changes consistency because of the brine, so it isn't that luscious pink and tender meat you think of when you think butcher counter.  But what you get in flavor and moisture is the trade off.  All in all, things turned out pretty good, including the whiskey sauce that brightened  up otherwise boring potatoes. 

For dessert, my friend brought a gluten-free batter for cookie baking.  Oatmeal peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies did not taste at all gluten-free.  She also skipped the refined white sugar.  And, unlike my whole-wheat monstrosities, they did not suck.

Best of all, I now have light again in my bedroom and living room.  You gotta have friends.