Seafood

My friend Yvonne and I tested my Bloody Mary oyster shooters and got lightly “toasted” at the same time. We kept draining our shot glasses and after each one we figured we needed one more, just to make sure the seasoning was right. And besides, each shot glass contained dinner (an oyster and a vegetable) and a drink (a spot of vodka), so why stop before our appetites waned? Before we knew it we’d moved from testing to party mode. We laughingly dubbed our oyster concoction a “party in a shot glass,” and the name stuck. One thing is sure: start slurping these and you’ve got a party whether it’s for just the two of you or for a crowd of your best buddies.

The best cocktail conversations are light, easy, and entertaining—and cocktail party food ought to follow suit. Inspired by an appetizer I enjoyed at New York City’s BLT Steak, I tossed cubes of raw tuna with avocado, citrus juice, wasabi paste, and a touch of sesame oil and served the mix in ceramic spoons instead of on a plate. As simple to prepare as it is to eat, each Tuna Spoon contains just a mouthful—custom-made to enjoy with cocktails.

I first tasted Ralph Watterson’s Six Rivers Tuna last year when he and his group of bicycling buddies passed through Frederickburgs on a four-day cycling trip. His tuna provides hearty lunches for the group as they cover 300 miles and cross six rivers on their annual spring cycling trip. I asked for the recipe, which he described as his mother’s version, plus a few embellishments of his own. I made it, tried it out at the bakery, and our tuna sandwich sales skyrocketed. Ralph’s Six Rivers Tuna is now a part of our regular menu. Given its proven track record as a recipe that travels, I figured it would be great for an outdoor picnic or a potluck. On bike trips, Ralph says he often serves it with crackers. I wanted something more substantial and created a soft, honey-kissed roll that when split and filled with tuna makes a memorable and satisfying sandwich that travels with ease.

This dish got its “Big Easy” name from the New Orleans–inspired Cajun seasoning that defines its flavor, and also because it’s one of the biggest, easiest party dishes I know. The fish can be prepared and in the oven in less than 15 minutes, and it doesn’t take much longer to cook. Cleanup is a snap, too, as long as you line the baking pan with foil. (Once the fish is cooked, just toss out the foil and return the pan to the cabinet.) For a simple dinner party after a day at the beach, it can’t be beat. I serve whole flounder whenever I can find it because I’m smitten with the clean, light taste of this white fish, and for sentimental reasons, too. I spent many a summer on the Texas Gulf Coast, sunning, swimming, and fishing on the Bolivar Peninsula near Galveston. At night we’d step into our old tennis shoes, and armed with a flashlight and a spear, we’d wade into the Gulf up to our knees, shine the flashlight in the water, and when we spotted a bottom-dwelling flounder, we’d spear it. We tried really hard not to spear our own feet, and succeeded, though we did end up at the local ER a couple of times—never for a speared foot, though. This recipe pairs nicely with One-Pot Cajun New Potatoes, page 75.

In my book, lump crabmeat spells luxury, and I can’t think of a better way to pamper my guests than starting off with a sumptuous serving. Offering my friends a mound of crab in crab or scallop shells makes me feel as if I’m bringing the sea to the table. Scallop shells are usually easier to find than crab shells, although I’ve seen both at kitchen supply stores. If you can’t find shells, use small ramekins. For a speedy main course, double the recipe and bake the crab in larger ramekins. Serve with a green salad and loaves of crusty bread.

A day of lazy dipping in Gulf Coast waters calls for a cold bowl of cooked shrimp dipped in a sweetsavory sauce. That’s what my mom thought, anyway, and she always had cold shrimp on hand when we stayed at the beach. I love it, too, and it’s a great do-ahead that lets you set out something for your hungry guests as soon as you step inside after a day of sand and sun. I cook the shrimp and make the dipping sauces the day before and stick ’em all in the fridge. When I pull them out, everyone thinks I’m an organized genius. (Naturally, I politely demur.) Snacking on shrimp, nobody notices if I disappear into the kitchen for a little main-course prep work. I usually figure about one-third pound per person. The shrimp usually runs out before anyone’s hunger does, but that works for me. I want my friends to have room for dinner and dessert. If I don’t feel much like cooking, I allow about one-half pound of shrimp per person for a hands-on main course. Of course, I always offer dessert, often as simple as cookies (like Vanilla Sand Dollars, page 83) and ice cream.

My spicy, tangy catfish tacos are a great way to feed a hungry beach crowd without the hassle of frying or grilling. Load up a rimmed baking sheet with fish fillets, pour on the marinade, refrigerate overnight, and just before serving, bake for less than 30 minutes. Heat flour or corn tortillas in a tortilla warmer along with the fish, and set it all out on the table with a bowl of chipotle mayo and a platter of thin-sliced cabbage. Now everybody chow down! The fish is just the way I like it—juicy and flavorful thanks to long marination (at least 6 hours) and oven baking. I’ve allowed two tacos per person to ensure you’ll have enough even for man-size, sun-fueled appetites. (What is it about playing on the beach that makes men so hungry?) If you have a smaller crowd or guests with smaller stomachs, halve the recipe.

Okay, gumbo takes time and patience, especially if you make the effort to prepare a nice, dark roux. On the plus side, you can make it a day ahead and heat it when your guests arrive, leaving you free to mingle, chat, and have a great time with your friends. In addition, it feeds a whole lot of hungry people, and if you are very, very lucky you’ll have leftovers for lunch the next day. (Sometimes I squirrel away a little in the refrigerator for insurance.) Serve with long-grain rice and some crusty bread.

As a kid, I loved the crab claw cocktail at Don’s Seafood and Steakhouse in Beaumont, Texas. My take on this childhood favorite seems so right for a Gulf Coast party: It’s easy to make ahead, is light and refreshing, and highlights the glorious blue crab that inhabits the Gulf Coast. Finding fresh crab claws can be tough if you are not at the beach during crab season, but they’re available canned, and they taste almost as good as fresh. Make sure you are getting the meat with the little claw attached, so they can be plucked out of the marinade and eaten. Here in Texas they’re called crab meat fingers.

The origin of the name campechana is a mystery, but just about every Texan I know loves this cool, tomatoey seafood cocktail stocked with plump chunks of ripe avocado and served with a pile of crisp tortilla chips. (I hear it is big in some parts of California, too.) I got stuck on campechana at a place run by legendary Houston restaurateur Jim Goode. He parlayed a small Texas barbecue joint into a homegrown restaurant dynasty that includes a Tex-Mex eatery and two Gulf Coast seafood spots. Campechana is incredibly versatile. As an appetizer, serve in long-stemmed glasses set on plates and surrounded with tortilla chips for dipping. Serve as a main course in a huge bowl, surrounded by chips. Offer individual bowls and let guests ladle up servings themselves. For outdoor or beachside festivities, transport in a large plastic container set in a cooler and serve in clear acrylic stemmed glasses or in disposable plastic glasses. Don’t forget plenty of chips.

Chicken-fried tenderloin steak was a top seller at Rebecca’s Table, but I have my bartender to thank for the idea that led to this variation. One night, a couple sat down to eat dinner at the bar, and the husband ordered chicken-fried steak. His wife liked the idea, just not the red meat part of it. So the bartender says, “Why don’t we do some shrimp for you?” She was thrilled. Served with chipotle ketchup, adapted from a recipe by Texas chef and author Terry Thompson-Anderson, chicken-fried shrimp became a best-selling appetizer. It’s also a natural for informal entertaining. Once guests arrive, fire up the skillet, and enlist a helper to dip the buttermilk-soaked shrimp in the seasoned flour mixture. Other guests would be well advised to stay nearby. Chicken-fried anything is best fresh from the frying pan. Set the shrimp on a communal platter accompanied with a big bowl of chipotle ketchup and let guests serve themselves. I guarantee the shrimp won’t last long.

When my Catalan friend Pep made me fideos, the Spanish dish that’s much like a paella but with pasta instead of rice, the first thing I thought was: delicious. The second: What a great thing to make for one. You don’t have to boil the pasta, the whole dish can be made in a single skillet, and you can scale it down easily. I like to make it with sardines because they last so long in my cupboard or refrigerator, they’re considered one of the more eco-friendly fish in the world, and they give the pasta a salty, funky taste I love. This makes a hearty meal for one, but you can easily stretch it to serve two with a salad or another vegetable and bread on the side.

My friend Domenica Marchetti knows her pasta. She’s the author of several fantastic books on Italian cooking, but the latest, The Glorious Pastas of Italy, is probably the closest to her heart, so I had to ask her what kind of dish this mother and wife might make for herself on a night she’s alone. She picked something that she grew up with, that her family made just once a year as part of the traditional Italian “feast of the seven fishes” on Christmas Eve. It dawned on her that she didn’t need to wait for the holidays to make it, and now, neither do I. It’s right up my alley. In fact, the day she sent me the recipe, I looked in my fridge and pantry to confirm I had every single ingredient on hand. I couldn’t help but smile; dinner was sealed, deliciously.

Some of my favorite sandwiches need very little prep work, just the right combination of top-notch ingredients. This is one of them. Dark bread, smoky fish, tart apple, and complex Gouda make magic together. All you have to do is slice, spread, cut, eat, and smile.

Shortly after the first time I went to Cork Wine Bar, a bustling neighborhood restaurant a few blocks from me in Washington, D.C., I started making one of their signature appetizers for dinner parties. It’s simply bruschetta with sliced avocado, crushed pistachios, a drizzle of pistachio oil, and a sprinkle of fleur de sel. It is rich and pretty perfect as an hors d’oeuvre. When I started making it for myself, it wasn’t quite doing the trick. I wanted a little protein on there, as well as something to cut the richness. A can of one of my favorite products, smoked oysters, was the answer, as were tart green olives. I like to pump up the smokiness even further by tossing the oysters with a little smoked paprika, but I’ll leave that up to you. With or without it, this appetizer has grown up into a meal.

This is not the tuna sandwich of your childhood, but it hits all the right notes: richness from the oily tuna, starchy goodness from the chickpeas, bitterness from the arugula, a little tang from the artichoke hearts, and a hell of a tang from the Herbed Lemon Confit (page 4). If you don’t have some of the latter in your refrigerator, store-bought preserved lemon slices will do.

If you think this sounds something like a reconstructed salade Niçoise on bread, well, you’d be right, but the truth is, I got the idea in Italy, not France. On my first trip there, in Venice, I quickly became addicted to eating while standing up at one of the city’s many bars. Besides melanzana (eggplant) pizza, my favorite dish was a sandwich that seemed the ultimate in decadence, because it consisted of potato salad on one side and tuna salad on the other. When I started making it for myself, it seemed only natural to combine both salads into one, and then to throw a hard-cooked egg in there (who doesn’t like egg salad, after all?), along with a couple of olives for briny tartness.

I’m such a purist about some things—I think all food people are. Tell me you’re putting beans and tomatoes in chili, and the Texas boy in me bristles. But when one of my friends, an Israeli man of Norwegian heritage, came to a pizza-tasting party and—before he sampled it, I should note—declared this pizza combination “wrong, just wrong,” why did it irritate me so much? Well, I suppose it’s because I’m neither Norwegian nor Italian, so I couldn’t understand why something so delicious could be anything but right. This combination was inspired by a pizza that friends told me I had to try from Coppi’s Organic in Washington, D.C. I’ve taken shameless liberties with it.

Shrimp and citrus make such a natural match, I often combine them in tacos, but they call out for something with a little heft, such as black beans. Depending on the size grapefruit you use, you’ll probably have more than you need for this recipe, but that’s not a problem. Just eat the remaining sections for breakfast with a little yogurt, for dessert instead of the oranges in the Yogurt Parfait with Mulled Red Wine Syrup (page 161), or in a smoothie with banana and milk. I like to sometimes double up the salsa on this taco, drizzling on a little Salsa Verde (page 14) in addition to the on-the-fly grapefruit–black bean salsa, but these tacos are plenty flavorful without it.

I’m as intimidated about making fish tacos for California friends as they would be to make chili for me. But I’ve learned the rules: No baking the fish, no guacamole (makes the fish soggy), no flour tortillas (although there’s some dispute on that point)? And you should hear the unprintable things they say about versions that include mayonnaise! It just so happens that I agree on all those points, except for one, which my Cali-friends will discover when they read this: I have actually made pretty darn crisp catfish in the oven. When it’s just you alone in the kitchen, and you don’t feel like frying, I won’t judge.