Seafood that looks fishy to you?
A recipe for a gratin of mussels
With the reporting on Russia’s latest war exposing its grip on global food supplies, you probably now know Russia is responsible for the provision of 45 percent of the world's whitefish supply - largely cod, pollack and haddock. All fished in the Barents Sea, it is subjected now to a boycott.
48,000 metric tons of whitefish are imported into the UK alone, direct from Russia. In March, the UK government announced an additional 35 percent tariff on whitefish imports. Fish-and-chips are moving into luxury-food territory.
They are nudging more opulent fish dishes out of that category. With the rocketing rise in fuel prices and fishermen no longer able to afford regularly to put to sea, supplies of premium seafood are becoming limited. High-end chefs are being force to take specialities like langoustines and scallops off their menus. They are no longer saleable at a price that covers their now hugely elevated basic cost.
In London, diners ordering Michelin-starred chef Tom Brown’s signature dish at Cornerstone of an extra-large scallop with peanut, chilli and lime that cost £19/$23 would now have to be charged an unacceptable £30/$37 for what was only a starter. So it’s no longer on the menu. Nor are monkfish, hake, John Dory and cod.
This is the moment we need to become more adventurous with fish.
Europe is fortunate that its own fishing grounds are so close and so full of interesting varieties in waters cold and warm there is less need to buy common white fish. Nor is there the UK reluctance among Europeans to try new types. Over the course of one summer in France, I counted over twenty-five different kinds of fish in the local markets. Most of them would be utterly unfamiliar to British and American home cooks. But there is no-one more willing to tell the prospective cook what to do with them than the person behind them in the queue.
The British have always been conservative in their fish choices, unaware that half the species they spurn are warmly welcomed in Europe, like the ugly gurnard, common in British waters, highly prized in Marseille as essential to bouillabaisse but viewed with suspicion in the UK for its unappealing aspect.
In the US, freestanding fishmongers are rare. It would be interesting to know how many American teenagers are familiar with the word ‘fishmonger’ (or have ever seen a dedicated butcher’s shop on the high street). In regular supermarkets, the standard source for meat and fish, it’s hard to find anything beyond salmon and halibut, swordfish and tuna, and much of that farmed. Even Seattle’s well-known Pike Place Market now sells more tourist t-shirts and tat than fish. For anything interesting, people who don’t live near the shore are obliged to seek out Asian or Latino stores.
In Britain in the 1970s, there were fifty-two species of edible fish listed by the industry authority. That’s not counting shellfish or freshwater fish, nor fish imported to target specific ethnic markets. Whether cooking at home or eating out, we stuck to roughly six varieties. Even now that the Brits have discovered eating can actually be a pleasurable experience, we still don’t eat nearly enough fish nor widely enough across the types. Maybe it’s a left-over from the days when it was felt men required a good chunk of red meat or a steak as a main course.
Those days and attitudes may be in the past, and we’re aware how important it is for climate change to reduce our appetite for red meat. But if you still feel a little anxious about venturing into unfamiliar cooking territory with the swimmers, try this dish, which makes a change from the familiar Moules Marinière. It also has the advantage that most of it can be prepared in advance.
Serves 4-6
2 kg/4 lbs 4 oz mussels
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
350ml/12¼fl oz dry white wine
350g/12¼oz butter, softened
3-6 garlic cloves, depending on enthusiasm, peeled and grated
Zest of 1 lemon and 2 tablespoons juice
4 rounded tablespoons finely chopped parsley
100g/3½oz fresh breadcrumbs
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Tip the mussels into a sinkful of cold water. Scrub each one, pulling off their beards. Discard any broken mussels. Tap any open mussels with a knife. If they don't immediately shut tight, discard them. Once cleaned, tumble the mussels through fresh cold water to eliminate any remaining sand.
Heat the oil in a large pan, add the shallots, stir, and cook over a low heat for 5 minutes or until soft. Add the wine and raise the heat to medium. As soon as it comes to the boil, tip in the mussels and cover with a lid. Cook the mussels for about 5 minutes to open them, shaking the pan frequently. Remove the lid and lift out the mussels with a slotted spoon. Discard any that are still closed. Reserve the cooking liquid and strain into a bowl through a sieve lined with muslin or doubled kitchen towel, discarding the shallots. Rinse out the pan, then return the liquid to it. Boil the liquid over a high heat down to about 2 tablespoons.
Remove and discard the top shell of each cooked mussel. Arrange the bottoms close together in a roasting pan.
Mash the butter, garlic, lemon zest and juice, chopped parsley and breadcrumbs together with the mussel cooking liquid. This is a great deal easier if you do it by squeezing everything together with your clean hands. Season, and press a blob of the mixture onto each mussel.
Preheat your grill to its hottest. Place the roasting pan under it until the butter is bubbling and the breadcrumbs lightly browned. Serve immediately with plenty of crusty baguette to dip into the juices - and a pile of paper napkins.
The dish can be prepared ahead and stored in the fridge up to the point where you dab the garlic butter mixture onto each mussel. (Keep that mixture on the counter to stay soft. Adding it to the mussels before refrigerating them will make the fridge reek of garlic.)
This looks scrumptious. Maybe these difficulties will mean that some of the most desirable fish will get a rest, though it's hard to imagine that there will ever be a price high enough to keep people from eating lobster or scallops or halibut. As for mussels, they are much scarcer here in the U. S, than they used to be -- on their way to becoming a new luxury item. I remember a trip to Scotland in 1973 when I rented a cottage on the sea, and I could gather a bushel of mussels without moving more than three steps.