Saturday, October 27, 2007

Fish Cooked on a Plate

That's the name our family gives to this well-loved recipe, adapted from Jeff Smith's China, Greece, and Rome cookbook. Despite or because of its simplicity and its improbable juxtaposition of fish fillets with tofu, it's been a favorite for many years with everyone who has eaten (or prepared) it, notably including kids. Surely the original intent was just to stretch the more expensive fish with the bean curd, but as we know this motive has led to many great and classic dishes. It seems only right to share.

Please note that this is one of those recipes that's all about the quality and combination of ingredients, so don't start out experimenting with substitutions or enhancements before cooking it as described. I've done tons of variations, all unsatisfactory. This is the version we keep coming back to. Total preparation time, including cooking, is 20 - 30 minutes.


Fish Cooked On a Plate

Serves 4

  • 1 lb. freshest flounder fillets or other mild thin flatfish
  • 1/2 lb. extra-firm tofu in 1/4" thick slices
  • 1 small or 1/2 large clove garlic, pressed or minced finely
  • 1 teaspoon freshly grated fresh ginger*
  • 2 TB peanut or canola oil
  • 2 TB dry white wine or fino sherry
  • 2 TB good soy sauce
  • 2 scallions, sliced on the diagonal - keep white portion separate from green

Put an inch of water in the bottom of a wok, lay a steaming grid over it, cover, and put over a low flame to get the steam started. Whisk together the garlic, ginger, oil, wine, and soy sauce in a small bowl with a fork. Arrange the tofu slices in a single layer on a large, deepish plate, such as a buffet plate, charger, or shallow soup plate. (Make sure it fits in the wok first.) Lay the fillets over the tofu in another single layer, more or less. Pour the sauce over the fish and tofu. Scatter the white parts of the sliced scallion on top. Put the plate in the wok on top of the steaming grid and replace the cover. Raise heat to medium-high. Cook for ten minutes without peeking. Remove the plate from the wok and scatter the scallion greens over the top. Serve with plain white rice - Jasmine or Basmati rice is not ideal here in our experience - to soak up the sauce, and a vegetable. Broccoli or snow peas are good choices.


*We always just keep a large piece of ginger in the freezer, sealed tightly in a small Ziploc bag. I just take it out and grate it as-is. It actually grates easier frozen. Once grated, it thaws almost immediately. This way we aren't always buying ginger and then throwing out the majority after it's gone bad in the bottom of the fridge.


MORE...
I got a comment asking what a "steaming grid" was. It's a simple wire rack that sits in the bottom of the wok, just high enough to keep anything sitting on it out of the water in the bottom. Note that there needs to be a little bit of space between the edge of the plate and the sides of the wok in order for the steam to surround everything (and to facilitate extracting the hot plate when the food is cooked.) Here are two photos:



Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Sweetser's Apple Barrel


I am lucky to live in a town and a region with a long history of apple growing. I'm even luckier to live just down the street from Sweetser's Apple Barrel. There are lots of places around here where you can buy or pick good apples. The thing that makes Sweetser's particularly notable is that you can get so many different kinds of apples there. Mid-October is prime time.


You can't quite see it in the lame photo above, taken in failing light with a slow shutter speed and no support for my shaky hand, but that list of "Today's Varieties" includes, among the more usual suspects: Spencer, Jonafree, Snowapple, Brock, Liberty, Spartan, Rolfe, Wolfe River, Nodhead, Russet, Red Spy, Mutsu, Ben Davis, and Blue Pearmain. Be still, my heart!


The sight and taste of these apples, or even just knowing that they're still there (or there again) makes me happy. We don't have to go to the wilderness for it to be of great value to us; it just has to be there. I feel the same way about uncommon local apples. The analogy only goes so far, of course, when someone has to stay in business. Fortunately it is not a hard sell to get me to buy a bunch of these apples every year.

Sometimes I bite into one of the old, heirloom varieties, such as a Sheephead I had in Vermont one day that tasted like a dessicated kitchen sponge, and say to myself, "Yup, now I know why you never see this one anymore." That's part of the adventure. Other times, as with the Blue Pearmain I had from Sweetser's last week - dryish and firm, with a fascinating texture like underripe honeydew and overtones of acetone in the scent of its juice - you have to just shake your head and say, "This is bizarre ... but so good." If you are not an adventurous eater, try the Spencer. Snappy, juicy, and hard like a fresh Mac or Macoun, it also has a hint of the sweet, spicy, floral qualities of a Delicious. It's is a favorite of everyone in my family.










Can You Freeze Guinness?

"Can you freeze Guinness?" This question reminds me of the quip that mountain bikers and skiers often make when someone asks if they can jump off of this or that obstacle: "Sure, I can jump off of anything. Landing is another matter." In this case, the response - beyond "Why would you want to?" - is "Yes, but what happens when you thaw it?"

When we got back from the supermarket the other day, my son helped me put away the groceries. Space cadet that he can sometimes be, he managed to stow the four-pack of Guinness in the freezer. I discovered this awful truth several days later when I went into the basement hunting for one. I let them thaw in an old kitty litter tray, just in case, and was surprised to see that they had not burst. Tonight I opened one. Without tasting it side-by-side with one that had not been frozen - no point in torturing ourselves by mentioning proper draft - I can't say that there was no difference. I can say, though, that the previously frozen Guinness was perfectly drinkable. Who would have thought?

Star of the County Down

No matter how bad a day you've had at work, the world seems worth inhabiting again when you remember forgotten beauty. This can happen if, for example, you discover that your nine-year-old fiddle player has a copy of Star of the County Down secreted away behind the Row, Row, Row Your Boats and Clair de Lunes in his music folder made of yellow construction paper. We never give them enough credit.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Florid

We opened one of the last of our bottles from the great 2001 German vintage the other night. We had a lesson in how radically wines can change in a relatively short time. Last time we had this, probably two or three years ago, it was a creamy, silky thing with a lot of fat, dipping a bit toward the sweet arm of the sugar/acid scales. Now it is a sere, focused streak - a missile and no longer a bomb, if you'll pardon the militarism.

(As I recall, we first had this wine with pancakes. I won't tell if that was at breakfast or not. But even if it was, get a load of the alcohol content: 7.5 %. When's the last time you saw a number that low on a wine from someone's hot list, along side the latest Rhone Ranger or Spanish phenom? Some beers have more kick than that!)

The first thing that's beautiful about this wine is its label. See for yourself. The florid is baked into everything. (Although this is actually a very clean German label compared to something like GrĂ¼nhaus or von Simmern.) Florian Weingart! A name like that is just too good to be true. We may have a state named after florid, but in Germany it's burned in way deeper than that.



I know this is my very first wine blog entry ever, and so I should hold back on hokey wine-speak. This is the time to hook readers with my sensible, down-to-earth approach and matter-of-fact style, right? Make wine writing safe for children and newbies. Probably, but the hell with that. This wine is way too interesting to privilege marketing over truth.

Imagine a stony stream bed. There's a trickle of cool water running down it. On the surface of the water are pieces of lemon peel and brittle autumn leaves. Along the banks are honeysuckle bushes dense with blossoms. (Yes, I do know that they don't bloom in the fall.) That's how this wine smells. That's really all you need to know. That's the important part. If you must hear about the rest, I'll just tell you that it has perfect gobsmacking juicy/puckery balance. There are notes of grapefruit, custard, tea, cider, and lemon meringue pie on the palate. The finish is reasonably long. Hard to tell because it tends to get interrupted quickly by the next sip. So... importer Terry Theise (and Herr Weingart): Thank you. Keep 'em coming!