Tag: recipes

Cooking with Nathan : San Pietro

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There’s not much left in the fishmonger’s at Palanca. My fault, I’d got up late, and midday on a Saturday morning is not the time for buying fish as they’re running down the stock.

I took a look around, but nothing is really grabbing my attention. But there’s always San Pietro (“John Dory”) something of a luxury fish in the UK but seemingly more common – and certainly cheaper – in this part of the world.

I only need two fillets but, as I said, the boys are trying to clear everything, and so I leave with three instead. That’s nearly half a kilo of fish.

Fried in breadcrumbs is always an option of course, but that seems a little unexciting for such a fine fish. Then I remember I’ve got a few pieces of salmon in the freezer that I was saving for a basic pasta sauce. I’ve probably got all the parts I need for a fish stew. And so, that evening, I set to work.

You know the drill by now : I mix us a brace of Spritz Nathans, and cook to Steely Dan’s “Can’t Buy a Thrill” as I’m doing a complete Dan relisten.

Ingredients (serves 3….yes, I know, there are only two of us)

One small onion

One fat clove of garlic

About a dozen small tomatoes

One medium-size potato

Pinch of saffron

Two fillets of San Pietro

Maybe 50g of salmon. More won’t hurt if you’ve got it.

Half a litre of chicken stock (you could probably get away with water, but stock is better if you have it)

Parsley if you’ve got it, some fresh chilli if you’d like, salt to taste

Method

Stick a pan on a low heat with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.

Sweat the (finely diced) onions, and then halve and add the tomatoes. Cook them down. You can take as long as you like over this. When they’re nearly done, finely chop the garlic and add that as well.

Chop the potato into small-ish cubes and add to the pan along with a pinch of saffron. Give it all a good stir together and then add the stock. Cover and let it simmer for about 15 minutes, or until the potatoes will take the point of a knife.

In the meantime, chop your San Pietro and salmon into chunks. When the potatoes are done and the stew is about the right consistency (add a little water if you need to), add the fish to the pan – you don’t want them to be cooking for more than five minutes as they’ll overcook and start to fall apart, so go easy on the stirring. Season to taste.

And that’s pretty much it. Add parsley if you’ve got it, chilli if you’d like it. Some lightly toasted bread rubbed with olive oil and garlic would be nice; but the potatoes are there to add carbs and so it’s non-essential. Also I forgot. And didn’t have the right kind of bread anyway.

And that was Saturday. We managed about 2/3 of it. The rest, I thought, would do us for Sunday.

The trouble with that is that it left one spare fillet of San Pietro which I could probably do something with at a later date, but it’s a slightly annoying amount of fish to have left over. Also, reheating the stew risked the fish falling apart.

So what I did was kind of a variation on a fish chowder.

Ingredients (for two)

Remains of yesterday’s fish soup (you kept this in the fridge, didn’t you….please tell me you kept this in the fridge…)

One fillet of San Pietro

Dozen prawns (it was Sunday, so I went to Conad – they were perfectly good)

140g sweetcorn (or thereabouts- this just happened to be the size of the tin I had in)

Splash of milk

Parsley

Method

Blitz the existing soup in a blender or food processor.

Scrape it into a pan, and let it down with some milk

Add the sweetcorn, and cook it through until the consistency seems about right

Chop the remaining fillet of San Pietro and add it to the pan together with the prawns

Again, you don’t really want to give this much more than five minutes. Season to taste, and dress with parsley (I don’t think chilli would have worked in this case. Coriander might have been nice though?)

Toasted bread on the side if you’ve got it.

Straightforward cooking, probably reasonably healthy, and two fun meals to prepare. Doesn’t have to be San Pietro, I imagine any firm-fleshed white fish would be fine – cod, haddock, even monkfish if you’re pushing the boat out.

Happy eating, everyone!

What we didn’t eat on our holiday…

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So, we’re just back from a month in Sicily. We go there every year in August. But this time is different. It’s barely a month since we laid mum to rest. I’m tired. I’m stressed. I feel burned out. In short, I’m in need of a break.

Work on next year’s Nathan book is behind schedule, for obvious reasons, but Sicily gives me a chance to catch up. Write in the morning, join Caroline on the beach in the afternoon. After a few weeks I’m dragging it back on track and I can even admit to myself that, yes, I’m enjoying this and I think this book is going to work out.

Dinner in the evening varies between Sicilian street food or ice cream (because we’re old enough now to have an ice-cream and call it dinner). But there are also those nights of proper restaurants where we might just treat ourselves. Which, in this part of Sicily, basically means fish.

As a result, I’ve managed to eat my own bodyweight in grilled anchovies.

Let me explain. Grilled small fish – sardines, anchovies, whatever they may be – are just one of those things I could always eat. Forever. It’s my Death Row meal. Ideally with a big pile of crispy chips on the side. And I have eaten a *lot* of anchovies this holiday. And, tonight, I’m planning to do the same.

I ask the waiter if there are any Small Fish available. He nods, and says, of course.

Great. I’d like some small fish, grilled over charcoal, and a big pile of crispy chips please.

Of course, he nods. Then he frowns. One moment.

He heads off to investigate the fresh fish cabinet. He talks to the boss. Shaking of heads goes on and my heart sinks.

He returns. There are some small fish. But only a few. Not enough to make a proper dinner. Perhaps I might like something else?

I’m a bit thrown by this. In all honesty I hadn’t really consulted the menu as carefully as I might. But I did notice there was a modestly priced steak. And, given there’s a proper charcoal grill, I imagine that would be pretty good.

So I ask for the Bistecca.

His expression changes, becomes quizzical.

‘What, you don’t like fish?’

‘Er, yes, I do, but given you haven’t got any small fish – ‘

‘We have lots of fish!’

‘ – yes, but as you have a proper charcoal grill I thought maybe the steak – ‘

He shakes his head. ‘The steak is there only for small children who don’t like fish!’

‘Oh.’

‘We have ricciola. It is a beautiful fish.’

I know what a ricciola is. It’s an Amberjack. It is, indeed, a very fine fish.

I’m still kind of thinking I would *quite* like that steak. But I get the impression there’s not going to be a discussion here.

‘I’ll have the ricciola,’ I say.

He nods and smiles. ‘Excellent choice, sir.’ He pauses. ‘It is much better than the steak.’ As if I were in any doubt.

‘Could I still have the big pile of chips?’

‘Of course.’

Caroline, by this stage, is wiping tears away.

The ricciola arrives. It is indeed a splendid fish and the chargrilled flesh makes it all the more splendid. We then share a torta di cassata between us and I finish with a coffee and grappa, as Caroline has an amaro amara.

It has been an excellent meal and the ricciola a perfect recommendation. I shake hands with the waiter and tell him we’ll see him in a few days. As, indeed, we do. Only this time there really are small fish available…

A month passed. A month of writing and reading and eating and, simply, of just feeling happy. Honestly, I wasn’t quite ready to go home. But, at the end of the day, Sicily brought me back to a more healthy state of mind. I feel better for having been there.

I still wish I’d had that bloody steak though.