Jane Grigson's Fish Book - Jane Grigson [231]
Octopus is included in fish soups, such as Cacciucco (p. 401), and in stews. Pieces are grilled over charcoal. Sometimes it is used to eke out lobster, rather as monkfish is, but nobody is fooled, I would say. You can eat it cold, making a little salad with avocados, some bitter greenery and an olive oil vinaigrette, or you can chew it with a glass of ouzo as an apéritif.
The strangest octopus recipe I have been able to find is the Maltese one which follows, from a book by two sisters, Anne and Helen Caruana Galizia, Recipes from Malta.
OCTOPUS STEW (Stuffat tal-qarnit)
You can cut the long cooking time of this recipe by adopting the dip-and-simmer method of preparing octopus outlined at the beginning of this section.
Serves 6
4 large onions, chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 octopus weighing about 750 g (1½ lb), cleaned and cut into pieces convenient for eating
2 tablespoons tomato purée
1 tablespoon small capers
1 tablespoon chopped mint leaves
8 black olives
1 handful of walnuts
1 handful of raisins
300 ml (10 fl oz) red wine
1 teaspoon mixed spice
1 teaspoon curry powder
Cook the onion in the oil, fairly slowly, until golden. Stir in the octopus pieces and continue to cook gently for a few minutes. Add the remaining ingredients and simmer for 2 hours, stirring quite often, and adding a little hot water so that the octopus does not dry out – it should bathe in enough liquid barely to cover.
Serve as a sauce over spaghetti. Alternatively, turn the dish into a main course by adding 750 g (1½ lb) peeled and quartered potatoes (and extra water) for the last 30–40 minutes.
‘The addition of the curry and spice may sound outrageous,’ say the authors, ‘but it is a typical Maltese addition and we think it should be tried.’
Another Maltese cookery book gives a simpler variation of this stew – minus capers, mint leaves and spices – adding peas rather than potatoes at the end.
† OPAH, MOONFISH OR SUNFISH Lampris regius
A large fish, of curves and perfect beauty of colour. The aspect of its round eyes and rounded head is mild, almost dolphin-like. The huge, plump body, a taut oval up to 2 m (6 feet) long, is softly spotted with white. The main blue-grey and green of its skin reflects an iridescence of rose, purple and gold. The fins are a brilliant red. The sickly tail has reminded people of the moon’s shape; the ribs of its fins have seemed like the scarlet rays of the sun. Earlier, scientists gave it the magnificent rank of Zeus luna. Now it is more correctly classified as Lampris regius, which could be translated as ‘creature of kingly radiance’.
The opah likes the warm waters of the world (opah from W. African uba), but in summer it is sometimes caught in the North Atlantic. I saw one at Swindon, in the warm autumn season of 1971. It had been taken on 29 October, off the North Cape of Iceland, by the trawler Lucida – appropriate name – and was in perfect condition over a week later. I was given two steaks cut from the centre of this 63 kg (9 stone) majesty; each one weighed 2½ kg (5 lb). Round the central bone, the flesh fell into closely curved sections the colour of salmon. The flavour and richness, too, were salmon-like (the practical Norwegians eschew poetic names and call it, simply, the ‘large salmon’, laksestørje). The taste was less fishy than salmon; the texture more meaty yet not so dry as similarly meaty fish like tuna or porbeagle.
Ask your fishmonger about opah (or Jerusalem haddock, or sunfish, or moonfish; or mariposa, or kingfish if he happens to be American). He might have the chance of some one day. Then you will be able to try one of the best fish it is possible to eat.
Alan Davidson, friend and learned author of many books on fish, was able