Jane Grigson's Fish Book - Jane Grigson [34]
breadcrumbs made from day-old bread
4 tablespoons finely chopped shallot
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
10 tablespoons vermouth
60–90 g (2–3 oz) unsalted butter
Season the fish with salt and pepper, a little in advance, if possible.
Switch on the oven to gas 8, 230 °C (450 °F).
Brush the top side of each piece of brill with melted butter and press it down into a tray of breadcrumbs to coat it. With a butter paper, grease an ovenproof dish that will take the fillets in a single layer, fairly closely. Scatter the shallot and most of the parsley over the base, and put the fillets on top, crumb side up. Sprinkle the rest of the melted butter over the crumbs. Pour the vermouth round the sides of the fish.
Bake for about 10 minutes, or until the brill is cooked. Remove the fish to six warm plates. Strain the cooking juices into a small pan and whisk in the unsalted butter. Season to taste. Pour the sauce beside the pieces of fish and scatter it with a little of the remaining parsley.
CAPELIN see A FEW WORDS ABOUT… SMELT
† CARP
Cyprinus carpio
For centuries, carp have been the pet fish of domestic waters. Frank Buckland described them as ‘water-sheep – herbivorous – gregarious – of a contented mind’. Still at great houses, like the château of Chantilly in France, they rise in crowds to the surface of moat or lake to be fed (not, I believe, on account of the bell which is rung, but because they see people collecting together and have learnt that this means food). Another of the French châteaux, Chambord, has given its name to a much-truffled preparation of carp in the princely style.
The first carp I encountered came from no such elegant waters, but from the river Loir, in May. The clammy creature was handed to me by a friend who observed that he had brought his lunch with him. I recognized the handsome large-scaled fish from Chinese plates and paintings, but I had not the least idea of how to cook it. Neither did I know that it should have been soaked in vinegar and water in case it had a muddy flavour.
As it turned out, I was lucky. That carp had been kind enough to avoid the murkier depths of the Loir. And the only means I had of cooking it – foil, a double row of bricks with a grill, and charcoal – were just right for its fresh liveliness of flavour. Butter, shallots, parsley and white wine all went into the package, and we remember its taste many years later.
Our second carp did not turn out so well. It was not Cyprinus carpio from the Loir, but a Mirror carp, a variety which has been bred for fish-farming. It looked strange, even amongst the exotic fish of Soho. The skin had a soft, wash-leather appearance, an opulent nudity, as the huge scales were few and dotted in single rows. That fish must have been a long way from home, because the flavour had faded. In fact, carp are good travellers. I should have been more careful to choose a livelier looking specimen. Although one could not expect the wild freshness of river-caught carp, these domestic varieties please the Chinese, and the Germans, and the French, all in their very different ways serious eaters of good things. Obviously carp are not selling in large quantities all over the world just because they are tough survivors and easily fed. (Some of the ponds extend to thousands of acres.)
I have learnt since that the carp is a surprisingly interesting fish for the cook, as I hope you will agree after reading the following recipes. It should be added that, for the eater, the flesh is firm and sweet, the arrangement of bones satisfyingly comprehensible. The soft roe is a great delicacy. If it is not required specifically in the recipe, turn to p. 430 and make the Curé’s omelette with it.
TO CHOOSE AND PREPARE CARP
The male carp with a soft roe is generally preferred to the female: its flavour is thought to be better.
A problem with carp is the likelihood that it will taste muddy. There are two ways to counteract this. First you can salt the fish, either sprinkling salt over the slices, or soaking the whole carp