Gefilte Fish with Horseradish Cream

At the Passover Seder table growing up, I always had to watch with envious eyes as my brother took supreme pleasure in eating piece (glob?) after piece of gefilte fish. I just had to sit there and watch, I wasn't able to eat it because I was still allergic to pretty much every little seemingly harmless thing in the vast ocean.

Jealousy is really the only explanation I can come up with as to why I always coveted gefilte fish. It was not its visual appeal - that's for sure.

It's really quite an unseemly thing - a grey, pallid mass of congealed fish. It emerges from its jar coated in a gelatinous goo. This jar also contains little carrot discs, as if to assure you that the goo can indeed provide a welcoming home to things that were once real, living things. And don't think that I'm doing gefilte fish a disservice by describing it as such - there's no denying it's instantaneous ick factor.

Once plated gefilte fish is not nearly as off-putting, but if you've seen where it comes from, it's a tougher pill to swallow. The jar, from whence it was fished in all its gooey glory, is a bit hard to get past. Yet, in spite of all of this, likely more than enough to scare off most any right-minded kid, I wanted nothing more than to be able to enjoy gefilte fish - or at least to be able to try it, and hate it, and then make fun of my brother for liking it with the ammunition to back it up.

But no, I just had to sit there - eating my hard-boiled eggs covered in heaping scoops of horseradish, as if it were some sort of substitute, lest my entire face swell up - lest I turn into a living reminder of the plague of boils set forth on the Egyptians. And that's not what Passover's about! It's about relaxing, and celebrating our freedom and drinking until you can't stand up from your oh-so-reclined position (not to mention eating tons and tons of chocolate-covered matzoh), not relishing the ills that were cast upon our adversaries - Jews aren't into that kind of schadenfreude.

As I've discussed before, I've outgrown this fish allergy (though less so the salmon, though I trudge on anyway, trying to will it out of my system), and when I finally had the chance to taste gefilte fish, I actually really liked it. Why, precisely, I couldn't tell you - probably the fact that it's pleasantly fishy, soft and salty, and a perfect vehicle for tongue-numbing quantities of Gold's horseradish. I was finally able to take joy in what my brother had been able to enjoy his entire life, though to his chagrin, there was now another mouth at the table with whom he'd have to share.

When I set out to prepare my first Seder last year, I wanted to go all-out. I tend to go all-out with most things cooking, especially when I'm cooking for others, and I wanted my first Seder to be a smash-hit. I suspect that it was - I think the text messages I get from my blond-haired and blue-eyed friend telling me that she's having a hankering for the brisket I made is a pretty good indicator of success, if I do say so myself.

With a couple of non-Jews in attendance at the Seder, I wanted to make sure that all the dishes were executed in order to maximize their potential, lest my fear that they'd forever be turned off from Jewish food be realized. I saw gefilte fish as the biggest hurdle - as you can imagine it's not really the easiest thing to sell: Fish cakes! Fish dumplings! Fish blobs - from a jar! A jar full of gelatinous goo!

Since I was a third-year law student (read: I had a significant amount of time on my hands), I figured I'd try my hand at homemade gefilte fish, since steamed fresh fish dumplings seems a bit (though just a bit) of an easier sell than their goo-laden brethren.

And though the gefilte fish stunk up my house something serious, it was an undeniable success. I'm still counting my lucky stars that I had a roommate easy-going and understanding enough to deal with the smell of steaming fish for days (let me tell you - steamed fish smell is the gift that keeps on giving), without so much of a peep of complaint (and a shiksa, no less!!).

The gefilte fish was so much fresher, the texture undeniably better than anything I'd had in the past - there was much more than the hint of fishiness present to make you wise to that fact that what you were eating had once swam in the sea. The horseradish cream lends a sophisticated air to the dish; its flavor, at once spicy and tangy, really heightens the flavors of the fish, serving as a lovely contrast to the smokiness of the salmon and cutting through the richness characteristic of many Passover dishes, in all of their egg-laden glory. The gefilte fish itself had better depth of flavor than the jarred variety, owing to the fresh carrots, onions, scallions and two types of fish, and the fact that it was steamed just the day before, and with no goo of which to speak.



Homemade Gefilte Fish with Horseradish Cream
Adapted from Bon Appétit April 2002

This is an undeniably laborious recipe - albeit one that yields results that kick jarred gefilte fish's ass. However, I didn't have a food processor and decided not to buy one for the gefilte-fish-making occasion, so I found myself chopping...and chopping...and chopping fish until it was in a consistency akin to what would've been realized in the food processor. I'd imagine that this greatly reduces the time commitment of this endeavor. Whether this recipe is worth it is completely up to you, but one thing I think is certain is that this recipe will not leave you reaching for the jar.

And yes, this recipe and the next couple I'll be sharing are from last year, but I never got around to sharing them then, and they became less and less timely as the year progressed, and they dropped by the wayside. But now, with Passover creeping up on us, I again have an opportunity to share them!

Gefilte Fish

3/4 cup peeled carrots, thinly sliced
1/4 cup matzo meal
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped green onions
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 1/2 pounds mild white fish fillets (such as sole or flounder), cut into small pieces
2 cups chopped smoked salmon
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 large cabbage, separated into leaves

Cook carrots in pan of boiling salted water until very tender, about 8 minutes. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup cooking water in small bowl. Stir matzoh meal into water; let stand 10 minutes to allow maximum saturation. Place carrots in food processor. Heat olive oil in heavy medium skillet over medium-low heat. Add onion and sauté until soft, about 5 minutes. Add green onions and stir 1 minute. Add onion mixture to carrots in food processor. Add the matzo meal mixture and blend until mixture is pureed and smooth. Using electric mixer, beat 3 eggs and lemon juice in large bowl until foamy and slightly thickened, about 4 minutes. Stir in mixture from processor to the egg-lemon bowl; do not bother cleaning the processor bowl.

Blend fish fillets, smoked fish, salt, and pepper in same processor bowl until fish is finely chopped. Add remaining egg and blend to coarse paste. Add fish mixture to matzo meal mixture and mix thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate until very cold, about 2 hours.

Line large baking sheet with waxed or parchment paper. Using wet hands, shape 1/4 cup fish mixture for each dumpling into an egg-shaped oval. Place on prepared sheet. Cover with waxed paper and chill while preparing cabbage and steamer.

Set vegetable steamer rack in large pot. Fill pot with enough water to meet, but not cover, the bottom of the rack. Line rack with cabbage leaves. Arrange 8 fish dumplings on leaves; cover with additional cabbage. Bring water to boil. Cover pot and steam dumplings until cooked through and firm to touch, about 25 minutes. Transfer upper cabbage leaves to platter. Top with cooked dumplings. Cover with bottom cabbage leaves. Steam remaining dumplings in additional cabbage leaves in 2 more batches. Cover and refrigerate gefilte fish until cold, at least 6 hours. (Can be prepared 2 days ahead. Keep refrigerated.)

Horseradish Cream

This sauce is fantastic - I found myself slicking it on anything and everything I could validate being a good vehicle for the days following my Seder, and I have a feeling you will as well. Even if you don't make the gefilte fish yourself, give the sauce a whirl - it's a great change of pace from the jarred stuff.

2 garlic cloves
1/4 cup prepared white horseradish (or more, depending on your taste - I love horseradish and used, if I recall correctly, a bit more)
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 cup mayonnaise

Mince garlic and place in a bowl. Mix in the lemon juice and horseradish until combined. Gradually add in the mayonnaise, whisking to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste, cover, chill and refrigerate until ready to serve. (Can be made one day ahead. Keep refrigerated.)

Serve horseradish cream alongside gefilte fish, toss aside the jar, and enjoy!

Testing the Waters

I spent the last few Saturdays taking a cooking class at the Institute of Culinary Education. It was a five-week course meant to introduce us to the "Elements of Fine Cooking," which I couldn't see being a bad idea. The course was a great time, an air of camaraderie between the instructor, my classmates and myself was immediately evident and good times were had by all. I'm now far more proficient in the arts of roasting and hollandaise-making than I was before, though it would seem that I could use a bit more practice in the souffle-making arena.

I'm not sure whether it was confidence in my cooking gained from this class or a desire to test my culinary limits that inspired me to attempt a recipe from Eric Ripert. I'd have to say it's more likely the latter, considering this throwdown occurred a mere two weeks into my course. His cooking at Le Bernardin is unmatched - nowhere else in New York will one receive plate after flawless plate of impeccably prepared seafood, as refined and clean as any I've had. I dined there for lunch a couple of years ago, and it remains one of my most memorable meals ever - everything was just so perfect, from my himachi appetizer to my pineapply trio of desserts.

Dishes in fine dining restaurants, even those that appear to be straightforward and simplistic rarely are. Each layer of flavor has often been prepared in some complex fashion. The preparation time and ingredient lists are enough to turn most home cooks off, which is part of the appeal of eating in these establishments in the first place.

However, when a special occasion arises, and one that you have no desire to spend in a restaurant because everyone else in the world is spending that same special occasion in every restaurant, everywhere, the preparation and ingredient lists become less of an obstacle. Why not celebrate with a meal courtesy of the best seafood chef in New York City? And why not enjoy it in your own home, without the pretense of "fine dining?" Not to mention that on top of the fact that you're enjoying an excellent meal, in the comfort of your own home, to be enjoyed at your own pace, without the interruption of servers asking if you're finished

Though this recipe wasn't effortless, it wasn't quite as burdensome as you'd imagine; the most difficult aspect ended up being the timing, since I made all of the components right before we were to eat. And the end result exceeded my expectations (though admittedly, of my performance, not of the dish) - the snapper was cooked perfectly; crispy, delicately spiced skin blanketing perfectly cooked, flaky fish. The mushrooms were earthy, yet vibrant, and the whole dish was brought together by the sauce, which provided a wonderful tang with immense depth of flavor, at once brightening the mild fish and the mountain of mushrooms on top of which it sat.

So we sat down to a wonderful, sophisticated (not to mention rather nice to look at) meal, I gave myself a little pat on the back, and dug right in, immensely proud of creating an experience that would put most restaurants to shame.

Red Snapper and Shiitakes in Port Reduction
adapted from the Le Bernardin Cookbook recipe available on epicurious.com

Ingredients
For the sauce:
1 cups high quality port (the recipe suggests 10-year old, I'm not sure how old the port I used was)
1 cups high quality sherry vinegar
For the mushrooms:
2 1/4 teaspoons corn oil (I used canola oil - the high smoke point is what's important here)
1 pound fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems cut lengthwise into 1/4-inch-thick slices, caps halved if small or cut into 3 or 4 slices if large
2 branches fresh thyme
1 clove garlic, peeled and halved
1 large shallot, peeled and finely diced
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
Fine sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground white pepper, to taste
For the fish:
2 1/4 teaspoons corn oil
2 (6-ounce) red snapper fillets
1/8 teaspoon Chinese five-spice powder
2 teaspoons minced fresh chives

Preparation

For the sauce:
1. Bring the port to a boil in a medium-size heavy saucepan over medium-high heat. Lower the heat slightly and simmer until reduced to 1/2 cup (if using a gas stove, never let the flames extend above the bottom edge of the pan). Add the vinegar and simmer until reduced almost to a syrup consistency, lowering the heat as necessary to keep the sauce from burning around the edges—you 'll have around 3 1/2 tablespoons (10 1/2 teaspoons). (Note: The sauce can be made to this point up to 1 week ahead; cover and refrigerate.)

2. Heat 1 1/2 teaspoons of corn oil in a skillet and place over high heat until the oil is just smoking. Place the mushrooms, thyme, and garlic in the skillet and lower the heat to medium. Sauté until browned, about 4 minutes. Turn the heat to low and add the shallot and 1 tablespoons of butter to the skillets. Season with salt and pepper. Cook until the shallot is softened and the mushrooms are tender, about 6 minutes more. Discard the garlic and thyme. (Note: The mushrooms can be made to this point up to 1 day ahead; cover and refrigerate).

3. Season both sides of the snapper with salt and pepper. Sprinkle the five-spice powder over the skin and rub it into the fish. Clean the skillet and add the remaining tablespoon of corn oil. Place over high heat until the oil is just smoking. Add the snapper to the skillet, skin side down, and briefly hold the fillets down with a spatula to prevent the skin from shrinking. Sauté until the bottom of the fillets are dark and crusted, about 5 minutes. Turn and cook for about 5 minutes longer, until a metal skewer inserted into the fish for 5 seconds is met with medium resistance and feels warm when touched to your lip. Keep the fillets warm until you're ready to plate.

4. Meanwhile, if mushrooms had been prepared ahead of time, set them in a skillet to reheat. Bring the sauce to a boil over high heat. Cut the remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter in to 1/2-inch pieces. Lift the saucepan a few inches above the heat and add the butter. Shake the pan back and forth until the butter is melted and incorporated into the sauce; this will take about 3 minutes. Do not stir or whisk the butter into the sauce. The sauce will be very shiny and clear.*

5. To serve, stir the chives into the mushrooms. Divide the mushrooms evenly among the two large plates, arranging them in the center of each plate. Top the mushroom mountain with the snapper. Drizzle the sauce around the mushrooms and serve immediately.

* Seriously, don't stir it - I grew impatient at this point, didn't read the instructions closely enough and stirred the butter in; this caused a bit of separation that I think would have been avoided had I just been patient - regardless, it tasted divine.

Saturday Night Improv

Be you a romantic or not, and regardless of your "relationship status," (for lack of a better term), I think we can all agree that Valentine's day is a bit of a sham. Why should we wait for a designated day to express our love, or to tell those around us how much we care? [Also, why should we also post about our Valentine's Day meals any time close to actual Valentine's day? Mm hmm, yea...]

Nowhere is this commercialized aspect of Valentine's Day more evident than in restaurants. No matter where you're dining on this certain evening, you're going to be elbow-to-elbow with a bunch of people that don't really have any place in your relationship, and you're going to be rushed out so that your table can be turned for the next happy couple. Prix fixe menus filled with "aphrodisiacs," but what's more aphrodisiacal than just being with the one you love, tasting ingredients, creating something beautiful to share in. A meal cooked at home, with your other half, leaves a much better taste in your mouth than something carelessly thrust at you by a chef with no connection to your togetherness. And hey, we all know that a dish cooked with love just tastes that much better.

So there you have it - I am not one for Valentine's days out, a matter on which I've preached before. I am, however, one for using the holiday as an excuse to create a meal more extravagant, time consuming and complex than I would on any other Saturday night. More willing to splurge for wonderful ingredients, since the end result is still going to be cheaper, more delicious, and served in a much more inviting environment than any restaurant could manufacture.

This Valentine's day was a seafood-laden one. The second course had been planned for a little bit, and I will get back to that one a bit later. The first course was to be more of an improvisational affair. We had initially planned on some foie gras, simply seared and served with a citrusy sauce to cut the richness. However, foie gras turned out to be a bit difficult to procure on short notice, so scallops it would be, served with a salad of sorts. Andrew was in charge of the shopping, and he arrived at my apartment holding beautiful, plump sea scallops, arugula and a bag of grapes. It was time to play!

I wasn't really sure where I was going with this when I started, but I must say that it turned out quite good. Since I was just throwing things in randomly, I don't have much of a recipe, but clearly this is a dish that is open to interpretation and infinite variations. What started with scallops, arugula and grapes turned into pan-seared scallops served atop a baby arugula salad with roasted grapes and a warm lemon vinaigrette. And it was wonderful - rich and sweet from the grapes and scallops, which had achieved a wonderful caramelization from the scorching hot pan. This sweetness played wonderfully off of the tangy lemon vinaigrette, the acidity, which had been tamed by the butter added to the warm vinaigrette, cut the sweetness of the grapes.

Seared Scalloped and Arugula Salad with Roasted Grapes in a Warm Lemon VInaigrette

I started by halving about a cup of grapes, but you might want to use less for two servings - we had a LOT of grapes in our salad. The choice between red and green grapes is totally up to you - we had green, so we used green, and I really liked the tart bite they imparted. In a skillet over medium heat, I heated a bit less than a tablespoon of butter until the foam subsided. I placed the grapes, cut side down, into the pan and let them cook until they softened a bit and started to brown and caramelize a little, at which point I added a finely minced shallot and about a half-teaspoon or so of crushed, dried thyme to the pan and gave it a good stir around to make sure that the shallot didn't brown.

Now this is where I get a bit foggy on details; I think that I added the juice of one lemon, some red wine vinegar, and a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. This was still a bit acidic, so I cut another tablespoon or so of butter into small cubes and added them bit by bit until the dressing was a bit richer and less intensely acidic. I poured the mellowed-out vinaigrette over the washed and dried arugula, tossing to coat (this actually produced a bit more dressing than we needed, so don't be tempted to pour the entire skillet-full on the salad at once). Divide the salad among plates. The lesson here really, is just to play with it until you're happy with it; until it suits your tastes. After all, you're cooking for yourself.

For the Scallops
6 large sea scallops, rinsed and patted dry
1-2 Tablespoons of olive oil
Salt and Pepper

Remove the tough outer muscle from the scallops, rinse and pat dry. This is really important, since a dry scallop is the only way you're going to get a nice sear. So make sure you're patting those scallops really well. Season both sides of the scallops with salt and pepper.

Heat a heavy skillet over medium-high heat for a couple of minutes, and then add the olive oil. Heat the oil until very hot. To test the oil, flick a little bit of water into the pan, if it sizzles and jumps around, then the oil is ready. Place the scallops into the hot oil, making sure not to crowd the pan, since overcrowding will cause your scallops to be steamed. Sear the scallops for two minutes on the first side - if you're unsure whether it's going to be ready, give it a little nudge with your tongs or spatula; if it moves easily, then it's done. Flip the scallops and sear for another minute on the opposite side. Remove from the heat and place an equal amount of scallops atop each salad plate.

I apologize for the blackberry-camera quality pictures, my camera is kaput and I'm making due with what I can, and I'm pretty sure you can deal. MmmK, thanks, bye.