Jane Grigson's Fish Book Part 6

The j.a.panese used knives, pestles and mortar until machines came along to take over. The processing of surimi is similar to the production of comminuted meat (i.e. meat, bones, gristle, etc. which are pulverized to a paste), the glue and 'meat content' of hot dogs, sausages, the more ineffectual pates. Surimi has the advantage of being springy in texture when it has been warmed and moisturized to the correct state. Then it is 'extruded in a thin layer on to a stainless steel belt followed by a flame and steam heat set to yield a strong and cohesive sheet of product. This sheet pa.s.ses through knives which cut the fibers lengthwise, but not completely through. The fibers thus produced are collated by rolling or bunching the sheet together and coating with an outer layer of the surimi mixture. The product is then printed with a food grade coloring agent, wrapped and heat processed before final packaging. Similar products' e.g. shrimp, scallops, lobster 'may be prepared by an extrusion process similar to spaghetti production.'

There it is. Now you know.

What irritates me is that this kind of thing can be pleasant enough to eat. From surimi, the j.a.panese have developed a kind of fish cake, flavoured with mirin, salt and sugar, called kamaboko kamaboko; it comes in various cylindrical and semi-cylindrical forms, sometimes coloured red on the outside, or cut to show a red spiral design. In a Vietnamese restaurant, you may get prawn paste pressed round a short piece of sugar cane, rather in the style of that ancient chikuwa chikuwa, that is really good. It seems that once big food business lays its high-tech hands on processing, all virtue, all art goes. Theoretically, artificial flavouring and textures could surely be as fine and lively in their own way as natural ones. Why should an artificial flavouring not be up to the standard, say, of the best perfumes from France?

With the size of the potential market, the expense of employing good tasters and sniffers would be nothing by comparison with the other costs. But then big food business is bent on selling the most tawdry product it can get away with at the highest price the public (i.e. the fools) will pay: 'With the right dye, flavoring and processing technology, surimi can be made into just about anything. The best profit margins, though, come from imitating sh.e.l.lfish generally regarded by consumers as luxuries... high tech will never replace the real thing' ah, but will it drive it out? Think of the effect frozen chicken has had on the availability of decent poultry 'but more importantly it represents a whole new market for the consumer who can't tell, or afford, the difference. In the United States, where processed food is king, that's just about everybody.'

That is why the respectable if humdrum pollock and croaker are being turned into crabless crab. It is so easy. Easy for the manufacturer. Easy for his accountants to rake in the cash. Easy for the fool of a consumer to unwrap a packet and serve up with loveless love, and a gla.s.s of milkless milk.

STOCKFISH, SALT COD OR KLIPFISH, AND LUTEFISK.

HOW TO PREPARE IT.

STOCKFISH This is the oldest form of preserved cod and its relations, being air-dried, without salt. The fish are beheaded, slit and gutted, then hung up in pairs, in the dry cold air of Norwegian winters, on wooden tenters like the framework of some ancient Viking homestead. The fish lose about four-fifths of their weight by evaporation, but none of their nutritional advantages. Only water has gone. The main European market is Italy where This is the oldest form of preserved cod and its relations, being air-dried, without salt. The fish are beheaded, slit and gutted, then hung up in pairs, in the dry cold air of Norwegian winters, on wooden tenters like the framework of some ancient Viking homestead. The fish lose about four-fifths of their weight by evaporation, but none of their nutritional advantages. Only water has gone. The main European market is Italy where stoccafisso stoccafisso is even more popular than is even more popular than baccala baccala (salt cod). Nigeria and Cameroon are big buyers, too, of this useful storage item that requires no refrigeration. Humidity rather than heat is what spoils it. (salt cod). Nigeria and Cameroon are big buyers, too, of this useful storage item that requires no refrigeration. Humidity rather than heat is what spoils it.

All you need do is soak it for about thirty-six hours. It can then be used interchangeably with salt cod, though obviously you will need to add salt to the recipe.

SALT COD OR KLIPFISH This came up as a rival to stockfish in the seventeenth century as far as Norwegian exports are concerned. As a product, it had been around much earlier. One English writer recorded in 1555 that Cabot himself had named Newfoundland and the country Baccallaos, 'because that in the seas thereabouts he found so great mult.i.tudes of certain big fishes... which the inhabitants call Baccallaos'. How this ties in with the Spaniards, I do not know, since it seems to be from their use of the term This came up as a rival to stockfish in the seventeenth century as far as Norwegian exports are concerned. As a product, it had been around much earlier. One English writer recorded in 1555 that Cabot himself had named Newfoundland and the country Baccallaos, 'because that in the seas thereabouts he found so great mult.i.tudes of certain big fishes... which the inhabitants call Baccallaos'. How this ties in with the Spaniards, I do not know, since it seems to be from their use of the term bacalao bacalao that the word spread through various European languages. The French use that the word spread through various European languages. The French use morue morue for preserved cod, for preserved cod, morue seche morue seche for stockfish, for stockfish, morue verte morue verte for salted cod that has not been dried out: the word for fresh cod is for salted cod that has not been dried out: the word for fresh cod is cabillaud cabillaud, from the Netherlands' kabeljauw kabeljauw and adopted in the thirteenth century. Be wary of this when you use French recipes. and adopted in the thirteenth century. Be wary of this when you use French recipes.

The true klipfish (klippfisk in Norway) is the split kite of creamy-coloured flatness, backed with the silky grey of the skin. Plump, moister salt cod, the French green cod, which has been more lightly salted, is often to be found in sealed packages these days. The weight loss is obviously much less: something you need to take into account when buying it. in Norway) is the split kite of creamy-coloured flatness, backed with the silky grey of the skin. Plump, moister salt cod, the French green cod, which has been more lightly salted, is often to be found in sealed packages these days. The weight loss is obviously much less: something you need to take into account when buying it.

As with stockfish, you need to soak salt cod however light the cure. In earlier times, people left the boards of fish to regain tone in the central fountain, or in a country stream. If you have a spare sink and no water meter you can imitate the system by cutting the cod up into pieces, placing them in a colander and standing the colander under a gently running tap.

I confess I have found this idea picturesque rather than necessary. Forty-eight hours, with one change of water, has always been adequate in my experience for even the most obdurate board of dried-out salt cod. More lightly salted cod requires twenty-four to thirty-six hours. The sensible thing is to chew a bit after soaking and judge accordingly. This is not unpleasant. Norwegians sometimes tease out the dry cod into a loose shreddy ma.s.s, and chew it to induce a thirst. After the initial surprise, I found this quite good, like biltong or jerky but with a clean fishy taste.

If salt cod is not available in your shops, you could follow some of today's chefs and Mrs Beeton by salting your own fresh cod (or hake or coley or pollock or ling). Sprinkle a tablespoon of fine sea salt over 1 kg (2 lb) cod fillets and leave for upwards of 2 hours. Turn the fish occasionally. Unless your hand slipped with the salt, or you left it a particularly long time, this domestic salt cod will need no more than a quick rinse. Again, taste it before submitting it to water.

TO COOK STOCKFISH, SALT COD AND KLIPFISH SALT COD AND KLIPFISH Put the piece or pieces into a pan and cover generously with cold water. Slowly bring to the boil, lower the heat and simmer for 58 minutes. Alternatively, bring to the boil, clap on the lid, remove to the side of the stove and leave for 15 minutes. Put the piece or pieces into a pan and cover generously with cold water. Slowly bring to the boil, lower the heat and simmer for 58 minutes. Alternatively, bring to the boil, clap on the lid, remove to the side of the stove and leave for 15 minutes.

Drain and pick out the bones. Some recipes suggest discarding the skin, but this always seems to me a mistake, since it adds an extra succulence to the final dish.

In some dishes, you do not need to give salt cod this pre-cooking. Most recipes will make this clear, but with a little experience you will be able to judge for yourself.

NOTE Small lumps and humps of salt cod, the so-called tongues or cheeks (following), which are a great delicacy, are treated in the same way. Since they are special, and more expensive, you are justified in serving them in smaller quant.i.ty than the less rich salt cod from the body of the fish. Bearing this in mind, you can use them for any stockfish or salt cod recipe. Small lumps and humps of salt cod, the so-called tongues or cheeks (following), which are a great delicacy, are treated in the same way. Since they are special, and more expensive, you are justified in serving them in smaller quant.i.ty than the less rich salt cod from the body of the fish. Bearing this in mind, you can use them for any stockfish or salt cod recipe.

COD'S TONGUES, CHEEKS CHEEKS A particular delicacy of this salted and dried fish trade is the small n.o.bbly bits from the head. I once bought some in Tours market. As far as I can remember, they were labelled A particular delicacy of this salted and dried fish trade is the small n.o.bbly bits from the head. I once bought some in Tours market. As far as I can remember, they were labelled joues de morue joues de morue, cheeks of salt cod, though perhaps bajoues bajoues was the word since they really come from underneath the jaw where there is a tender muscle roughly the shape of an arrow-head. In some books they are called was the word since they really come from underneath the jaw where there is a tender muscle roughly the shape of an arrow-head. In some books they are called langues langues or tongues, a reference to their shape. I recognized what they were from meals we had eaten in Basque towns in Spain where these little nuggets taken more often, in those parts, from hake than cod are known as or tongues, a reference to their shape. I recognized what they were from meals we had eaten in Basque towns in Spain where these little nuggets taken more often, in those parts, from hake than cod are known as kokotzas kokotzas and eaten fresh. They are cooked in olive oil with garlic and hot chilli, a little parsley and some stock; the milky liquor that emerges from them binds the sauce, making it particularly succulent. and eaten fresh. They are cooked in olive oil with garlic and hot chilli, a little parsley and some stock; the milky liquor that emerges from them binds the sauce, making it particularly succulent.

Salted pieces can be cooked in the same way, once soaked. Or you could fry them gently in a little olive oil and simmer with some tomatoes, stirring in a spoonful or two of pesto as a finishing touch. I once used them for Bacalhau a Bras (p. 103), and it was even better than usual. The price is higher, naturally, for these diminutive luxuries, but they are richer and can be served in smaller quant.i.ties than the normal salt cod.

LUTEFISK OR LYE FISH A most particular speciality of Scandinavia, this has not made many converts in the outside world. You begin with stockfish which is soaked for a week, then submerged in a lye of birchwood ashes and slaked lime. After this, the fish is soaked for a further week, with daily changes of water. For cooking, the lutefisk is tied into a cheesecloth bag and poached in boiling water. Salt is added after the water boils so that the cooked fish will 'shiver', this being the test of first cla.s.s lutefisk. The jellied texture and special flavour are not to everyone's taste. Even Alan Davidson, whose inclination is towards every kind of fish in whatever form human ingenuity can devise, was cautious on the subject in his A most particular speciality of Scandinavia, this has not made many converts in the outside world. You begin with stockfish which is soaked for a week, then submerged in a lye of birchwood ashes and slaked lime. After this, the fish is soaked for a further week, with daily changes of water. For cooking, the lutefisk is tied into a cheesecloth bag and poached in boiling water. Salt is added after the water boils so that the cooked fish will 'shiver', this being the test of first cla.s.s lutefisk. The jellied texture and special flavour are not to everyone's taste. Even Alan Davidson, whose inclination is towards every kind of fish in whatever form human ingenuity can devise, was cautious on the subject in his North Atlantic Seafood North Atlantic Seafood.

Despite the Christmas importance of lutefisk in Norway, Sweden and Finland, and in their settlements overseas, Mr Davidson was not convinced. He concluded that it survives as a fossil, its origin having been in past exigencies of climate and rough transport. A pamphlet I have from one of the producing firms, in Norway, instructs the cook to poach or steam the lutefisk, then provide 'bacon fat, mustard sauce, grated brown cheese' this I take to mean gjetost gjetost 'syrup, pease pottage or white sauce, to choice, accompanied by boiled potatoes and thin wafer crispbread'. The melted bacon fat, hot with little bits of bacon in it, seems intended, Mr Davidson says, to obscure an unpleasing taste that need not have been there in the first place. 'syrup, pease pottage or white sauce, to choice, accompanied by boiled potatoes and thin wafer crispbread'. The melted bacon fat, hot with little bits of bacon in it, seems intended, Mr Davidson says, to obscure an unpleasing taste that need not have been there in the first place.

AIOLI GARNI WITH SALT COD.

The most spectacular dish of summer holidays in Provence is aioli aioli, or ailloli garni ailloli garni, or le grand aioli le grand aioli. At its most flamboyant, it is a Matisse-coloured salad of salt cod and other fish; vegetables fresh and dried, raw and cooked; hard-boiled eggs, snails, and lemon quarters. With it comes a huge bowl of a special garlic mayonnaise. The flavour has nothing to do with rubbing a clove of garlic discreetly round a salad bowl. It comes from clove after clove after clove. So important is this sauce that the dish carries its name of aioli ail ail being French for garlic with all the rest reduced to the status of a garnish, lordly abundance being just an excuse as it were for eating the sauce. Although the cla.s.sic mayonnaise has a way of dominating nomenclature being French for garlic with all the rest reduced to the status of a garnish, lordly abundance being just an excuse as it were for eating the sauce. Although the cla.s.sic mayonnaise has a way of dominating nomenclature mayonnaise de saumon, mayonnaise de homard mayonnaise de saumon, mayonnaise de homard I think no other name touches the grandeur of aioli garni which often appears as I think no other name touches the grandeur of aioli garni which often appears as le grand aioli le grand aioli.

The start of a dish of this kind is a visit to the market, to see what vegetables are at their best. The salt cod you will have in stock: it should already be soaking, and have been soaking for about thirty-six hours.

Bear in mind the balance of your dish, what you can a.s.semble by way of eggs, snails, semi-dried or dried beans. The obvious lack so far is crispness celery, radishes, chicory, cardoon, Florentine fennel, sweet peppers; you serve them raw. Then there are vegetables that need only light cooking sugar peas, string beans, cauliflower, sprouting broccoli of various kinds.

Deal with all your items, poaching the salt cod, cooking the dried beans and so on, cutting the raw vegetables, and arrange everything on a huge dish, interspersed with lemon quarters, the egg, snails, etc.

Now make the aioli* itself, and put it into a large bowl or bowls depending on the number of people involved. Serve with cloth napkins, as large as possible. Like anchoiade (p. 54) this kind of communal buffet dish can be excessively uncomfortable unless attention is paid to detail.

BACALAO AL PIL-PIL.

Salt cod can be cooked in olive oil made piquant and spicy with dried chillis and garlic, in the same way as elvers or prawns (pp. 127 and and 284 284). The thing about this particular method is that the juices of the cod do not emerge to make the sauce creamy as in the next recipe. Use a flat-bottomed earthenware glazed pot of a st.u.r.dy kind which can go straight to table: on electric rings or gas, it is prudent to use a heat-diffuser mat.

This recipe gives you a good way of using up the thin tail end of salt cod. The sharp cooking means that the plump kind is unsuitable, since the fish should be permeated with the flavours.

For four people, soak 500 g (1 lb) salt cod. Then cook, bone and drain it well. Leave on the skin and cut it into handy pieces for eating. Dry them on kitchen paper.

Heat up the pot you intend to use with enough oil to cover the base comfortably. In it, cook 4 quartered cloves of garlic until they are golden brown, together with 2 small hot dried chillis (if you are not accustomed to this kind of dish, taste the oil occasionally and remove the chillis when it is piquant enough).

Put in the cod, skin side down. Cook for a minute or two, moving the bits about to avoid sticking. Then turn and cook briefly again. Serve immediately (put back the chillis for the sake of appearance and the name of the dish) with plenty of bread to mop up the delicious oil.

BACALAO IN ITS OWN SAUCE (Bacalao ligado) A favourite book of mine is Gastronomia Vasconum Gastronomia Vasconum, a collection of Basque recipes by Juan D de Echevarria, in five languages, published by Eduardo Izquierdo in Bilbao. I do recommend it. A number of recipes in this book are adapted from it, including this one. The magic, to me at any rate, of much Spanish and Portuguese cookery comes from the effects one can get by using heavy rustic earthenware pots directly on the heat. They are very cheap to buy on the spot, and I find they last for many years if treated reasonably carefully.

You will sometimes find that this dish is what comes to table, in restaurants, under the name of Bacalao al pil-pil (See preceding recipe). preceding recipe).

Soak and lightly cook 500 g (1 lb) salt cod. Remove the bones and drain it well. Dry carefully before frying it.

In an earthenware pot, heat up 250 ml (8 fl oz) olive oil. In it fry 4 cloves of garlic, sliced across. Remove when they are golden brown, and keep for garnishing.

In a second pot, heat up a further 250 ml (8 fl oz) olive oil with 2 sliced cloves of garlic. When they are brown, put them aside with the other garlic. Keep the oil warm.

Into the first pan, put the cod, skin side up and add 125 ml (4 fl oz) water or light beef or veal stock. Shake the pot to and fro, adding the warm oil bit by bit. The sauce should turn creamy. Take care that the cod does not stick. Scatter the browned garlic slices on top and serve immediately.

NOTE It is wise to practise this technique with small quant.i.ties. Should you come to disaster i.e. should the sauce not turn to a consistency somewhere between thick cream and mayonnaise reduce the whole thing to a thready puree in the processor, or with an electric beater, to a version of Brandade, It is wise to practise this technique with small quant.i.ties. Should you come to disaster i.e. should the sauce not turn to a consistency somewhere between thick cream and mayonnaise reduce the whole thing to a thready puree in the processor, or with an electric beater, to a version of Brandade, p. 104 p. 104.

MEXICAN BACALAO.

This recipe came from friends in Stockport who had it from a Mexican girl who worked for them a few years ago. When she left, they missed her beautiful presence but consoled themselves with this legacy that she had bequeathed them. It is a marvellous dish for a party, or for a holiday time, since it keeps well in the refrigerator for at least a week and can be eaten hot or cold.

I give the ingredients exactly as they came to me. The salt cod to use is the plump kind in plastic packages, which will not swell a great deal in the soaking. Should you be the lucky grower of good tomatoes, use them instead of canned puree, either wholly or in part. The essential thing, though, is to stick to preserved red peppers, the kind that come from Eastern Europe in jars.

Serves 8101 kg (2 lb) salt cod, soaked for 2436 hours600 ml (1 pt) olive oil10 cloves garlic, whole but peeled6 large onions, sliced2 handfuls of small parsley sprigs5 150 g (5 oz) cans Italian tomato puree or or 2 400 g (14 oz) cans pa.s.sata or canned tomatoes, chopped 2 400 g (14 oz) cans pa.s.sata or canned tomatoes, chopped375 g (12 oz) preserved red peppers, drained, sliced1620 green olives2 teaspoons sugarsalt, pepper Remove any bones from the fish and flake it. Heat the oil in a large saute pan or earthenware dish and fry the garlic until it is deep brown. Scoop out and discard the garlic. Put in the onion. Lower the heat and cook gently until it is transparent. Add the fish and stir together for a minute or so. Next, put in the parsley sprigs, then the tomato if the sauce looks sinister at this point, don't worry as it comes out all right in the end. Simmer for 15 minutes. Add the peppers and olives. Simmer again until the fish is tender and the sauce blended about 30 minutes. Sprinkle on the sugar and taste for seasoning.

Serve hot with a risotto (saffron risotto makes a fine contrast) or cold with a rice salad.

BACALHAU a BRAS.

This much-loved dish of the vast salt cod repertoire of Portugal is a winner. It is savoury and unusual to the Anglo-Saxon experience at least and completely delicious with its balance of cod and potatoes, egg and olives. If you are feeling hard up, increase the potatoes and decrease the cod. The name puzzled me, but apparently it is the inventor. Blessings on Mr Bras!

Serves 891 kg (2 lb) salt cod, well soaked or or 750 g (1 lb) salt cod cheeks 750 g (1 lb) salt cod cheeks1 kg (2 lb) potatoes, peeledgroundnut or sunflower oil for deep-frying500 g (1 lb) onions, sliced4 tablespoons olive oil175 g (6 oz) b.u.t.ter1 large clove garlic, slicedsalt, pepper12 large eggs, beaten1 small bunch parsley, chopped2430 black olives Flake and cut the cod into rough strips, discarding any bone. Shred the potatoes into matchsticks and deep-fry them until they are soft and lightly coloured but not brown and crisp like chips. Drain well.

Soften the onion in the olive oil and a third of the b.u.t.ter over a low heat. Add the garlic and cook a little faster so that the onion is nicely caught with brown in an appetizing manner: do not overheat the fat or it will burn. Add the fish and continue cooking for another 5 or 6 minutes, stirring often. Add seasoning, then put the whole thing into a bowl and mix in the potatoes. All this can be done an hour or two in advance.

For the final stages, you need two large saute pans another solution, better from the point of view of flavour, is to cook a generous half of the mixture, then the rest for second helpings.

Melt the remaining b.u.t.ter and stir in the fish and potato to heat through. Pour in the beaten egg and go on stirring until the whole thing is bound lightly do not overcook do not overcook. Turn on to a warm dish, sprinkle with parsley, decorate with the olives and serve.

BRANDADE DE MORUE.

Brandade has had its devotees ever since Grimod de la Reyniere 'discovered' it in Languedoc and wrote down the recipe at the end of the eighteenth century. He concealed the name of the place where he first ate this cream of salt cod, which has led to much pleasurable but fruitless speculation. (Like Lobster a l'americaine or armoricaine.) Was the place Beziers, the ancient cathedral town between Sete and Narbonne? Or was it Nimes, where one cooked food shop at least sends brandade to customers all over France? To add to the mystery, an almost identical dish, baccala mantecato baccala mantecato, is a great speciality of Venice and the Veneto.

Brandade is a fascinating dish to make. Poor-looking greyish-white boards of dried cod are transformed into richness by the gentle attentions of olive oil and cream. Less gentle are the attentions of the cook, who must keep up a steady crushing of the ingredients, combined with a shaking of the pot (the name is said by Grimod de la Reyniere to come from brandir brandir, an old verb meaning to stir, shake and crush with energy, for a long time: one may wonder on what other occasion it might have been employed). Such a slow transformation of substances may sound tiresome in a busy life, but it has its own relaxed pleasure, and a delicious result. A consolation fruit is the only possible follow-up. The modern recipe has changed little. I use cream, you may prefer to use rich milk and some b.u.t.ter instead.

Serves 6-1 kg (12 lb) dried salt cod500600 ml (1 pt) olive oil1 large clove garlic, crushed, finely chopped (optional)300 ml (10 fl oz) single cream or or milk and cream milk and creamsalt, pepper, nutmeg, lemon juice18 small triangles of bread fried in olive oil2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley Soak the cod and cook it in the usual way. Remove and discard all bony parts, but keep the skin. This is often discarded, but as Ali-Bab remarks in his Gastronomie Pratique Gastronomie Pratique, it helps the flavour and the consistency of the brandade, being gelatinous.

Put the pieces of cod, and skin if used, into a stoneware or enamelled iron ca.s.serole, over a low, steady heat (with a heat-diffuser mat underneath, if gas is used). Have the oil, and garlic if used, together in a small pan, keeping warm. The same goes for the cream or milk and cream. Pour a little oil on to the cod, and crush the two together with a wooden spoon, moving the pan about. Then add some cream, or milk and cream. Continue in this way until oil and cream are finished. You should now have a coherent creamy ma.s.s, very white if you have omitted the skin, white flecked with grey if you haven't. Season with salt, pepper, nutmeg and lemon juice.

The thing to avoid is overheating, which could cause the brandade to separate. Should this happen, take the unorthodox step of putting the mixture into a bowl and beating it vigorously and, if possible, electrically. Or use the processor.

Serve either in the cooking dish (though this will probably be too large), or on a plainly coloured earthenware dish. Dip one corner of each triangle of fried bread first in the brandade, and then into the parsley, before tucking the crouton into the edge of the brandade as a garnish.

Any left over can be reheated another day, and served in tiny pastry cases. Or it can be made into little cakes bind it with one or two eggs dipped in egg and breadcrumbs, and fried.

NEW ENGLAND SALT COD DINNER.

This kind of food is only good if it is properly done. You need to feel that it is something to relax over when you are really hungry and the weather is cold. The temptation is to cook the vegetables in a muddle, all together (except the beetroot of course) which usually means that nothing is quite right. The trickiest part for a cook in Britain will be finding salt belly of pork: fat green streaky bacon can be subst.i.tuted, though these days you are most likely to get a watery fluid from it than proper fat.

Alan Davidson gives a very similar recipe to this one in North Atlantic Seafood North Atlantic Seafood. His version adds carrots, and subst.i.tutes egg sauce for parsley sauce.

Serves 6750 g (1 lb) salt cod, soaked, simmered until just tender6 potatoes, boiled in their skins6 boiled onions12 small beetroot, baked in foil in the oven or boiledparsley sauce made with cream*175 g (6 oz) skinned salt pork, diced small When the cod and vegetables are all ready, arrange them on a hot serving plate skin the beetroot first, and the potatoes if you like. Keep them warm. Reheat the sauce and pour it into a jug.

Last of all, fry the salt pork in a heavy pan so that the fat runs from it and the little bits turn brown and crisp. Pour into a small hot jug, for people to help themselves, or else pour over the fish.

NEWFOUNDLANDERS' PIE (Tourte des Terre-Neuvas) As one reads in Pierre Loti's novel (see Cod Introduction), the men who went fishing to Icelandic waters were known as Cod Introduction), the men who went fishing to Icelandic waters were known as les islandais les islandais, the Icelanders. Others who went to Newfoundland were les Terre-Neuvas les Terre-Neuvas, and this is their recipe. I would say a dish for rejoicing when if they returned home in September.

Serves 6500 g (1 lb) salt cod, soaked, simmered375 g (12 oz) boiled potatoes, peeled, sliced1 large onion, chopped3 shallots, chopped125 g (4 oz) b.u.t.ter34 tablespoons chopped parsleysalt, pepper750-g (1 -lb) piece of puff pastry250 ml (8 fl oz) creme fraiche While the cod and potatoes cool, stew the onion and shallots in half the b.u.t.ter until yellow and tender. Stir in the parsley and seasoning.

Roll out half the pastry to fit a 25-cm (10-inch) tart tin. Pile on the cod and potato in layers, interspersed with the onion and shallot mixture. Brush the pastry rim with water.

Roll out the remaining pastry large enough to make a lid. Cut a 4-cm (1-inch) hole from the centre. Put the lid in place, pressing down the edges closely together. Decorate or score as you please. Brush over the top with a little of the cream. Chill half an hour, together with the circle cut from the lid.

Preheat the oven to gas 7, 220C (425F). When the temperature is set, slip in a baking sheet. Give it 3 or 4 minutes to heat up, then put the tart on the baking sheet. Place the circle of pastry beside it. Bake for 15 minutes, check the browning of the pastry and remove the circle if it is done. Give the tart another 15 minutes, lowering the heat if necessary.

Remove to a hot serving dish. Pour the rest of the cream into the pie through the central hole. Put on the circle of pastry and serve.

SALT COD FRITTERS.

The kite-shaped boards of salt cod hanging from the fishmonger's hooks look far too unyielding and dry for fritters. In fact, they work quite well (especially if you use only the thickest part) but results will be even better if you use the undried salt cod that you buy in packages. Be sure to soak the fish well. You do not need need to cook it, but I think that the result is a little better if you give it 5 minutes' gentle simmering. Then drain and cool it. to cook it, but I think that the result is a little better if you give it 5 minutes' gentle simmering. Then drain and cool it.

Cod's cheeks or tongues are good for tiny fritters: soak well and cook briefly as above.

Serves 6750 g (1 lb) salt cod, soakedbatter with beaten egg white*SERVE WITH:lemon quartersor skordalia and beetroot salad, skordalia and beetroot salad, p. 232 p. 232or tomato sauce tomato sauce* plus a chopping of walnuts, black olives and capers plus a chopping of walnuts, black olives and capersor tomato and red pepper salad tomato and red pepper salador mayonnaise mayonnaise*or mayonnaise derivatives tartare, aioli, anchovy, etc mayonnaise derivatives tartare, aioli, anchovy, etc.

Simmer the fish for up to 5 minutes in water (or use half water, half milk). It should be just tender enough to eat with pleasure. After removing bones and, if you like, any skin, drain and dry it extremely carefully. Cut it into roughly 5-cm (2-inch) pieces.

Make the batter and the sauce or salad before you start deep-frying the cod. Have everyone sitting ready, as fritters are best from the pan.

Heat the oil to 180C (350F). Dip each piece in the batter and deep-fry. Be careful not to overload the pan. When the batter coating is crisp and a deep golden colour, the fritters are done.

SALTFISH AND AKEE.

One of the great dishes of salt cod cookery from Jamaica is worth making in quant.i.ty since the left-overs taste so good served in the halves of a very ripe breadfruit baked in b.u.t.tered foil in the oven. Or it can be used as a stuffing for some of the livelier squashes, crooknecks or patty pans. Or as a filling for pasties and little tarts.

Akee, which we have to buy in tins, in Britain at any rate, looks like heaped billows of scrambled egg. The texture is soft and succulent. Ask anybody what it is and they would be pushed to give you an answer. And when you tell them the answer, they might well be keen to avoid it. Akee is properly the name of a tree, originally from West Africa, that was introduced to Jamaica from Guinea by Captain Bligh of the Bounty Bounty at the end of the eighteenth century. Hence its botanic name, at the end of the eighteenth century. Hence its botanic name, Blighia sapida Blighia sapida. The fruits are red and warty. When fully ripe, they burst open to show round black seeds, like berries, each one reposing in a creamy yellow cushion, a surreal padded egg cup the aril which is the part you eat. But, and this is quite a 'but', unless the fruit has 'ripened to the point of voluntary opening, it is a deadly poison. No overly ripe, fallen, discoloured or unripe fruit dare be eaten,' (I quote from The Joy of Cooking The Joy of Cooking by Rombauer and Beck) 'and the greatest care must be used to remove all seeds before cooking as these are always poisonous.' So too is the pinkish pulp inside. by Rombauer and Beck) 'and the greatest care must be used to remove all seeds before cooking as these are always poisonous.' So too is the pinkish pulp inside.

What heroine of the hearth I wonder first discovered the joy of eating akee, the right part in precisely the right condition to be eaten? Did she conduct controlled experiments with the tribe? Did she thoughtfully consider a succession of gastronomic deaths and reach at last the right conclusion? It is perhaps a relief to open a tin, rather than trust the judgement of a market seller.

The dish can of course be made without akee, but it neither looks nor tastes quite so good. It has occurred to me to use girolles instead, for their colour and consistency, but I have never had both girolles and salt cod in the house together. Scrambled egg is not a bad subst.i.tute at all visually, and it tastes fine if not exactly right.

Serves 68500 g (1 lb) salt cod, soaked and simmered500 g (1 lb) akee (contents of a large tin)125 g (4 oz) salt pork, dicedlard or or bacon fat bacon fat (see (see recipe recipe)175 g (6 oz) chopped onion1 green sweet pepper, seeded, cut in strips1 teaspoon green chilli, seeded, chopped4 spring onions or or Welsh onions Welsh onions or or very young leeks, chopped very young leeks, choppedgood pinch of thyme375 g (12 oz) tomatoes, skinned, seeded, chopped68 streaky bacon rashers, fried crisp1 tomato cut in 8 wedgesparsley or or watercress to garnish watercress to garnish Drain, cool and flake the cod, discarding any bones and skin. If you are using fresh akee, put it into boiling water and simmer until tender: salt it cautiously (in view of the saltiness of the fish). Otherwise drain the tinned akee. Mix with the fish.

In a large saute pan, fry the pork in its own fat, adding a little lard or bacon fat if necessary. When the dice are brown, scoop them with a slotted spoon into the bowl of akee and cod. In the fat remaining, fry the onion, pepper, chilli, spring onions or leeks, thyme and tomatoes, adding each item as the one before it wilts and softens. Cook to an unwatery sauce. Put in the akee, cod and pork to heat through. Check the seasoning.

Turn it on to a hot dish, scatter with crumbled or chopped crisp bacon, the tomato wedges and parsley or watercress, and serve.

ZURRUKUTUNA.

A soup that can be turned into a meal by the addition of poached eggs. If you are lucky enough to have a supply of those dried Spanish peppers called noras, this is an occasion to use them. The first subst.i.tute would be other dried mild peppers (e.g. anchos), then grilled, seeded and skinned red peppers. The last resort would be canned peppers, or bottled peppers. This is a particularly useful store cupboard dish for winter meals.

Serves 4250 g (8 oz) salt cod, soaked, cooked or 175 g (6 oz) dried salt cod, soaked, cooked2 noras, soaked or or 2 fresh red peppers, quartered, seeded, grilled 2 fresh red peppers, quartered, seeded, grilledolive oil4 large cloves garlic, halved4 slices stale bread, crusts removed4 tablespoons finely chopped onionblack pepper4 poached eggs (optional)cayenne pepper Bone and flake the cod. Remove the skin if you like. Sc.r.a.pe the fleshy part from the noras, discarding the skin; or skin and puree the fresh peppers.

Heat enough oil in an earthenware pot on top of the stove (use a heat-diffuser if necessary) to cover the base comfortably and fry the garlic to a light brown. Remove, crush and add to the peppers. In the oil, fry the bread until it, too, is nicely browned on both sides.

Pour off any surplus oil, add the onion with the peppers and garlic to the pot, season with black pepper and pour on 1 litre (1 pt) water. Simmer for 15 minutes, crushing the bread down so that it disintegrates into the water. Add the cod and simmer for a further 15 minutes. Add extra water at this stage, if the soup is too thick, and adjust the seasoning.

Have ready four very hot bowls, pour in the soup and slip a poached egg into each one, if you like. Dust the soup lightly with cayenne pepper. Serve immediately.

COLEY see see COD COD CONGER EEL see see A FEW WORDS ABOUT... A FEW WORDS ABOUT... CONGER EEL CONGER EEL

CRABS.

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Before the war, I remember that one of the few attractive things about our depressed town was the regular arrival of fisherwomen from Cullercoats, further up the coast, in Northumberland. They came with baskets of crabs and other fish balanced on their heads. They swung down the hill by our house in long striped skirts. Their weatherbeaten faces were shaded incongruously it seemed to me by the prettiest of lilac-sprigged sunbonnets. They were tough, unsmiling, magnificent if you like, and their fish was fresh, their crabs the best in the world. On rare days when we went to Seahouses or St Mary's lighthouse, we would stop by the row of little houses at Cullercoats and choose a crab to take home, weighing them thoughtfully in our hands to see if they felt heavy for their size. No crabs were ever so good.

Of course you will not agree with me particularly if you live in Maryland, where crabs have restaurants to themselves. I am not sure if I agree with myself either, having tasted now the sweet spider crabs from the Atlantic coast of France; but those Cullercoat crabs set up a standard of deliciousness in my memory, however embroidered by time, which I cannot escape from. The point is that in this country at least, crab is a luxury that many people can afford, without feeling guilty. The price of lobsters have soared, scallops have joined them, oysters are not yet the poor man's food, as they once were and as they may be again. Prawns and scampi, toughened by freezing, are a disappointment. But fresh crabs, like fresh mussels, are an unalloyed pleasure.

Unless your fishmonger is beyond reproach, the crab you boil yourself is far superior to the ready-to-eat kind. Be wary about ready-to-eat crab meat too. Sometimes it is mixed with foreign substances to pad it out. This may be approved by health inspectors, but does absolutely nothing for the true crab. Crab is a rich filling substance it should not be weighed down by stodgy and concealed matter.

There is no way out of it. Boiling and excavating your own crab is best. It is also a pleasure. Particularly if you can find someone to read to you, as you jab away.