Chinese Style Steamed Cod with Lup Cheong Sausage and Oyster Sauce

Steamed Cod with Lup Cheong Sausage and Oyster Sauce

One of my favorite and easiest ways to prepare fish is to steam it Chinese style. The classic way I grew up eating it is to steam a fillet, top it with julienned ginger, green onions, Chinese parsley (or cilantro) and pour soy sauce and hot peanut oil over it. The hot oil carries the flavor of the toppings over the whole fish and creates a tasty gravy to eat with your accompanying rice.

This preparation works well with most kinds of fish. You can use any white fleshed fish like cod, orange roughy or snapper or even salmon.

In this version, since I didn't have any fresh ginger or cilantro on hand, I improvised and went with lup cheong, a slightly sweet, dry, Chinese pork sausage with the texture of a dry salami, and sliced green onion. If you have ever had char siu (Chinese roast pork), lup cheong tastes similar in flavor only in sausage form.

I steamed a cod fillet and lup cheong slices together for a few minutes, transferred everything to a plate, arranging the lup cheong and green onions on the fillet and drizzled some oyster sauce over it all. The flavors were brought together with a couple of tablespoons of hot oil.

Baked Lemon Thyme Salmon

Baked Lemon Thyme Salmon

We still had some really nice stuff in the fridge from Christmas and I wasn't about to let it go to waste. I was, however, feeling a bit lazy. I enjoy cooking, but I did quite a lot of it over the past few days so I needed a recipe that was a no-brainer.

My Mom bakes whole salmon by simply seasoning it with salt and pepper and slathering the cleaned out cavity of the salmon with mayonnaise and topping it with lemon slices. The mayo always keeps the fish moist. Throw it in a 350 degree oven and forget about it for a half hour to forty five minutes or so depending on the size. Tip: the only mayo to use in my opinion is Bestfoods also known as Hellman's mayo east of the Rockies.

Instead of a whole salmon, I had some salmon fillet that got the same treatment with the addition of fresh thyme (just because it was there). I baked it at 350 for about 12 minutes and it was done perfectly.

Let's see, what else do we have in the fridge? Some pasta with olive oil, spinach, olives, tomato and fresh garlic? Guess that'll do.

Nehu

"Nehu"

We called them Nehu.

On warm, still, Saturday evenings, when the moon was full, and the tide was low, we would all head over to my Grandma's beach house in Kaneohe. Those evenings were perfect conditions for torching. After the sun went down and the tide was just right, my Grandpa, Dad and Uncles would fire up the Coleman kerosene lanterns. My brothers, cousins and I would watch intently hoping to one day be in charge of the light. Sometimes, the lanterns didn't fire up right away and glow bright or they would flicker. That usually meant changing one of the mantles, the net like filament held inside the globe. I remember the hissing sound a good strong lantern made and the clean smell of burning kerosene. Once burning brightly, the lanterns were easily quieted with a quick turn of the adjustment knob. It was important for the light to burn bright so we could see three feet or so beneath the surface of the water to the mudflat below. This is where the oama slept.

Grandma at her Beach House

To catch oama, we would gently lower a faded red, flat bottomed scoop net into the water just in front of a slumbering oama. Once the rim of the net was resting flush with the ocean floor you would slowly lift your foot up and stomp as hard as you could right behind the oama's tail while almost simultaneously jerking the net up. Sand and mud immediately went up in plumes completely clouding up the surrounding water. Sometimes when you held your net up to the lantern there would be an oama in it. Sometimes even two, if you were lucky- and skilled that is. Sometimes the net was empty.

Oama, or juvenile goatfish
(image courtesy elmerguzman.com)

The evenings catch would be taken back to the beachhouse and Grandma would sometimes clean and fry them but usually she would pickle them whole, minus gills and guts, with vinegar and onion. As a kid, I was never too fond of eating them that way. Although the vinegar softened them up a bit, there were still bones and fins and other poky things to contend with.

Oama in Net
(image courtesy hawaiibeachcombers.com)

A lantern glowing in the middle of a dark ocean will attract all sorts of creatures. I can recall seeing tako and cuttlefish and I think we even saw a ray of some kind slowly glide by once, not to mention all the other imaginary creatures that swam just out of view beyond the light's reach.

The light would often attract nehu; inch or inch and a half long fry or maybe they were anchovies of a sort. Some might simply call them bait fish (they weren't bait to us though). You would see their silvery sides glistening in the dim light as they schooled around, probably feeding on the plankton soup that was also attracted to the light source. All you have to do is sweep your net back and forth to catch them. It was easy enough to net a couple of handfuls. This was a nice consolation if the oama decided to sleep elsewhere.

We'd take the nehu back to the beachhouse kitchen where Grandma or Grandpa would lightly dust them with flour, guts, gills, bones and all, and quickly deep fry them in hot oil and season them with nothing but salt. They were good and crunchy and you could eat them whole without worrying about bones because they were so crispy.

"Nehu"

Fast forward a few, (actually many) years. I saw a recipe for a Spanish tapa called boquerones and it reminded me of nehu. I imagine there are many cultures that eat these little guys in the same way. When I was doing our Christmas food shopping at Santa Monica Seafood, I found these little smelt in the frozen case and thought I'd try them nehu style, just flour, a little salt and pepper and deep fried 'til crispy. They were almost as good as I remembered, although I don't think anything can replace venturing out torching and actually catching them myself.

Caldeirada de Peixe

Caldeirada de Peixe

Trolling around the internet for something to make for dinner tonight, I came across this recipe for caldeirada de peixe or "Portuguese fish stew". I started my search by assembling the ingredients I had on hand, frozen wild Alaskan cod fish and potatoes, and came across this recipe which intrigued me.

I remember as a kid my Grandpa used to bring home huge, whole, split salted cod fish called bacalao or bacalhau. He would char pieces of it right over the gas stove and we would strip it up and eat it over rice, salt and all, with hot ocha tea poured over it ochazuke style. The cod would soften as it rehydrated and the salt would flavor the tea turning it into a kind of dashi broth. As I grew older, I learned that bacalao was brought to Hawaii by the Portuguese who used it in their cooking. In fact, the Portuguese took it wherever they traveled as did the Spanish (I guess just in case the local fish weren't biting). Bacalao in one form or another can be found all over the Mediterranean from Turkey to Morocco, to the Caribbean, South and Central America and Hawaii. You can probably map the 17th century global economy by documenting the presence of salt cod around the world but I won't bother doing that, I just like to eat it.

So how did I come up with caldeirada de peixe? By googling cod fish, potatoes and Portuguese. Seemed like a natural combination. Although this stew is not made with salt cod, my memories of bacalao put me in the right mindset to cook something new using what I had.

I browned a sliced onion, a red pepper and a couple of minced garlic cloves. Next I added a layer of potatoes and chopped tomatoes. The recipe I found called for piri-piri sauce which I didn't have so I improvised with some cayenne and turmeric. Next was the secret ingredient, ground nutmeg. Nutmeg isn't a spice I use very often so I was surprised at how well the nutmeg went with the cod and the potatoes. I put in just enough for the "What's in this?" factor, but the stew could have stood up to a pinch more. Fish broth or clam juice would have been perfect in this recipe but all I had to work with was chicken broth so I used a couple of cups of that instead. The addition of a cup of white wine would have sealed the deal. The pan was covered and allowed to simmer for about fifteen minutes and right before the potatoes were done, I seasoned the broth, added the cod and a handful of chopped parsley (cilantro would work equally as well), and let it cook gently for another ten minutes or so.

Then end result turned out well I thought. The cod was flaky and the broth was rich, flavorful and just slightly spicy hot. The ground nutmeg, however, really pulled this dish together. It would have definitely been even better had I had all the ingredients on hand. Next time I'll make sure I do. This one's a keeper!

Get Stuffed

Stuffed Pimiento Pepper

These little pimiento peppers from the farmers market were the perfect size for stuffing. The farmer I bought them from told me they would be super sweet and they sure were. They remind me in shape of those miniature pumpkins you find in the supermarkets this time of year with pumpkin like ridges.

I cut the tops off and hollowed them out with a spoon. The stuffing was a mixture of a baby garbanzo bean, toasted couscous blend from Trader Joe's, some minced garlic, minced onion, minced mushrooms, grated Parmesan cheese and mashed up anchovy filets. The couscous was cooked and drained and the rest of the ingredients were sauteed in a little olive oil to draw out the water in the mushrooms and to combine the flavors. After cooling down a bit, everything was mixed together and stuffed in the pepper containers. The peppers then went into a 350 degree oven for about 15 minutes and they were done. We had the stuffed peppers with a little tomato sauce and pan fried salmon.

Pan Fried Salmon with Stuffed Pimiento Pepper

Waste Not Want Not

Salmon Hash

This morning for breakfast I had salmon hash with a fried egg on it, a couple of slices of wheat toast and some orange juice. The hash was made with flaked fresh grilled salmon filet, potatoes, red onion and a bit of parsley for color. It tasted great and was filling to say the least.


Alright, I have a confession to make. You perceptive types may have picked up on the fact that the potatoes in the picture look suspiciously uniform. No, they're not the frozen type that are already cut into little cubes.

Last night, T1 and I decided to go out for dinner. We like to frequent Pann's, an authentic diner from the fifties because it's affordable there, we know all the waitresses on a first name basis and the food is just plain good. Not much has changed in this place except the menu which is pretty modern for a diner. In addition to great unpretentious burgers and all the usual diner faves, they also serve things like bouillabaisse and braised short ribs of beef. Their breakfasts are hearty and their pies and cakes are killer. I ordered a bacon cheddar burger with fries and T1 ordered the grilled salmon filet. (Okay now you might have figured out where this is going) We ate until we were stuffed but being the kitchen forager that I am, I couldn't not take a doggy bag home with me. In it were the fixin's of the breakfast to be, salmon hash. YES! Those are day old french fries!!! I know the concept of recycled leftovers may not seem palatable to some so to those who have trouble warming up to the idea, I'll euphamistically refer to it as "recontextualized cuisine". Well, it did the job and started my day so it was good for that purpose I suppose.

Once again, as with the old potato post, if you happen to be at my place for breakfast, I promise not to serve you a recontextualized breakfast-at least that you're aware of anyway.

One Man's Trash

Is Another Man's Hash

A Fish Tale

Sesame Encrusted Turbot Filet with Ponzu Vinaigrette

Turbot (I've been told correctly pronounced "ter-bought") is our new favorite fish. Many years ago, I was lucky enough to do some fishing around Shelter Island off Juneau, Alaska and when we weren't trolling for king salmon, we would bottom fish. Bottom fishing involves maneuvering the boat up current of deep, underwater cliffs, cutting the motors and drifting. When in position, we cut leathery halibut skin into strips and fastened them securely to massive hooks, then with the aid of a ten pound cannon ball weight, the bait was thrown over the side to plummet down several hundred feet until hitting the bottom. Once there, we bounced the bait on the ocean floor in hopes of hitting a halibut on the head. Apparently, bottom feeding fish like halibut and turbot like to congregate at the base of these cliffs because this is where much of their food collects. When anything falls off the edge of the cliff and hits them on the head, they pounce on it and devour it. More often than not, we would pull up rock cod, or as we called them, "double uglies" because of the effect decompression had on them being brought to the surface so quickly. Once in a while, someone would celebrate the landing of a giant, hundred pound halibut. We pulled up way more turbot though. Turbot look like streamlined halibut; similar markings, same flat shape but not quite as proportionally wide. Flaky, rich and fatty turbot flesh is just as tasty as halibut and I think if someone told you it was indeed halibut, it would be hard to tell otherwise. The only difference between the two fish in my mind is the popularity and more importantly, the price. You can find wild caught turbot for about one half to two thirds the price of halibut. Notice you don't see it on menus much yet? With a little luck the turbot won't end up like the Patagonian tooth fish a.k.a. Chilean seabass; overpriced, over-fished and overrated.

For dinner last night, we had sesame encrusted turbot filet with a ponzu sauce, wild rice and wokked veggies. Give turbot a try.