Seafood

Alejandro O’Reilly was the Irish-born Spanish general sent to bring the Louisiana Territories to order after France ceded the region to Spain. Throughout New Orleans cooking you will see an easy blending of French and Spanish culinary styles, easier perhaps than the actual history of the Louisiana Territory. This escabèche is inspired by the history of that city I love to visit. From the Irish Channel to the funky music district of Frenchmen Street, the Spanish influence can still be tasted.

Oyster patties are much more sophisticated than their name and are to me one of the most elegant dishes to serve for a seated dinner, not that we have those often. They also make a wonderful offering for a more casual soiree, served from a chafing dish surrounded by the little pastry cases ready to be filled with the warm creamed oysters.

Eleven casinos dot the Mississippi beachfront from Biloxi to Bay St. Louis. I’m not too much on gambling—I’m poor and my luck isn’t so great—but I have a friend, Dale, who works for a large casino concern and he invited me there recently for a big music event. With some time to kill I decided to try my luck in the casino. Cards are not my thing and I like gawking at people, so roulette seemed the best game for me. When the croupier, Twayla, set the ball to spinning it hopped off the wheel, missing the thirty-eight pockets, and went right down the front of my blouse. The guy next to me asked me my bra size and it came up on the next spin. People think I make this kind of thing up but Dale saw the casino security tape to prove it! Seventeen natural oyster reefs are managed by the Mississippi Department of Marine Resources along the Mississippi Sound, which runs ninety miles east to west from Waveland to the Dauphin Island Bridge. On the south side, the Gulf Islands National Seashore separates the sound from the true Gulf of Mexico. As I write this the fate of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, its oysters, and its tourism industry is under siege from that catastrophic oil spill. I am betting on the resilience of these folks; they have come back from the brink of disaster before.

As useful as the paper package method is to cook thicker cuts of rich fish (see Honey-Glazed Salmon, page 73) it is also great for delicate, flaky white fish that can be difficult to handle during cooking and dries out easily.

I don’t understand why tilapia is not more popular. It has a flaky texture and good and delicate flavor and can be cooked just about any way you’d prepare any other fish. Plus, it’s safely and sustainably fished, widely available, and affordable. I buy and cook quite a bit of it, sometimes because I seek it out specifically, as when I make this recipe. Other times I get it because I request a specific fish and am told that it’s frozen in the back of the store. In these cases, I choose tilapia instead and am never disappointed.

To be honest, I didn’t used to care for salmon. I tried a number of different methods of cooking it and none had ever worked for me. Then, finally, I asked my friend Mario Lopez for advice, and he responded with two words: “honey glaze.” That was it! Honey cuts the richness that I used to find overpowering while underscoring the salmon’s own sweetness. Baking the fish in paper packages, called en papillote in French, allows thicker cuts to cook all the way through without getting dry, and (better yet) keeps the mess to a minimum. Plus, it’s fun to open them at the table—just be careful not to get burned by the steam! Serve with Garlic Green Beans (page 141) or a green salad.

While in the port town of Fécamp in Normandy, France, I stopped for lunch at a tiny hotel-restaurant that had no more than four tables and was run by a husband-and-wife team who apparently did everything from the cooking to serving to making the beds themselves. The catch of the day was Dover sole and the chef served it lightly pan-fried and practically swimming in a bath of the most wonderful lemon-butter sauce I’d ever tasted. The Dover sole sold in Europe is a delicate flat fish native to European waters, including the English Channel on which the town of Fécamp sits. When I’m in the United States, I use Pacific Dover sole or another delicately flavored, fresh, flat fish from waters closer to home. This dish is excellent served with Broiled Asparagus (page 145).

When I went fishing with my dad, more often than not we caught buckets of catfish. I loved every moment of those days, right up until he’d cook the catfish by just tossing it on the grill with nothing more than some salt and pepper—then I wasn’t so happy. I loved just about anything breaded—still do!—so I took matters into my own hands and came up with this recipe. The breading keeps the fish tender and moist. The only thing I’ve changed about this dish since I was a kid is the bread crumbs. Ever since fluffy Japanese panko (page 80) has become widely available, I use it instead of regular dried bread crumbs for almost all my breaded dishes. Try this with Spicy Roasted Brussels Sprouts (page 138) and Lemon Fettuccine (page 134).

This marinade is my favorite for shrimp, chicken, and flank steak or any other red meat. As with any marinade, the longer you let the shrimp or meat marinate, the better, but on many occasions I’ve had only enough time to throw it together and put it straight on the grill, and the results are still great.

In the beach towns of Mexico, where fresh seafood is abundant, people happily eat raw fish and shellfish. I, however, do not. I make ceviche with cooked shrimp and crab. I do, however, serve my ceviche on traditional Mexican tostadas—crispy, fried corn tortillas available at the grocery store. Use crab that you buy in the refrigerated section of the store. Don’t use the shelf-stable crab sold with the canned tuna fish; it doesn’t taste nearly as good in this fresh dish. The serrano pepper adds a great, spicy kick, but feel free to leave it out if you prefer. Clamato juice is a combination of tomato and clam juices. It can be found with other cocktail mixers at the grocery store. Cholula hot sauce is made in Mexico; it has a mild flavor and good heat. You’ll find it on the same grocery aisle with other hot sauces and condiments.

As typically Mexican as the previous recipe is, this one is just as typically American, right down to the Miracle Whip, which I have always preferred to mayonnaise. Naturally sweet shrimp is highlighted by a creamy, mildly sweet, tangy dressing and rich, buttery avocado. This is one of my favorite summer appetizers.

Growing up in the beach town of Corpus Christi, I spent many long hours shrimping, crabbing, and fishing with my dad. I remember my mom frequently asking him, “How on earth am I going to cook all of this?” One way she coped was regular “you-peel-’em” nights, when she would put a couple of enormous bowls of hot, steamed shrimp on the table with many small dishes of Tabasco-infused cocktail sauce. My dad, sisters, and I would happily stay at that table until every bowl was empty. In Mexico they have their own way of coping with abundant shrimp. No matter where you go, you will find a variation of this traditional appetizer, which is one of my dad’s favorite dishes. He loves Tabasco so much that he usually uses double the amount here! Sweet shrimp and velvety avocado temper the heat of the tangy cocktail sauce. Even if you don’t like it as spicy as my dad does, it should definitely have a little kick. Mexican shrimp cocktail is typically served out of individual small dishes—I like cocktail glasses—and eaten with a spoon.

The key to this recipe is to use butter from the northern French region of Normandy, or at the very least a European butter, either of which can be found in grocery stores or specialty food shops. Normandy butter contains more fat than American butter and tastes out of this world, especially in a recipe like this one that has just two main ingredients: succulent shrimp and rich butter.

Like pesto, this no-cook green sauce can be used in many ways. It’s awesome spooned over grilled vegetables, fish, chicken, pork, and lamb or served as a dip for crudités or focaccia. The parsley sauce can be made ahead of time and refrigerated, but is best when blended at the last minute to keep the deep green color. It’s featured throughout the book in recipes from parsley croutons (page 175) and Roasted Cauliflower (page 186) to Creamy Parsley Dressing (page 87).

Cauliflower can be a little bland on its own, but blasting the florets in a hot oven concentrates their natural sweetness and transforms the lily-white vegetable to a crisp caramel-brown. Tossing the roasted cauliflower with emerald green parsley sauce brightens the charred flavor. This is a universal side that goes with everything.

Every summer my family vacations in Harvey Cedars on Long Beach Island, New Jersey. Say what you want about New Jersey but let me tell you, when it comes to produce and seafood, it’s hard to beat. Most people you talk to know all about the tomatoes and corn, but there is so much more. How about the clams? My family gets ours from a local clammer. The scallop boats come in daily. The swordfish is exceptional and the crabs are as good as they are anywhere. I’m inspired by all of these things, and I’ve included most of them in this one dish. It may seem like a lot of ingredients, and it is. If you want to leave something out go ahead, or add something to it by all means. All the action happens in one pot, making this a great beach house dish.

Beautiful plump fish covered with a butterscotch-colored sauce on a bed of snow-white puree, this is a very subtle dish, in a good way. The ratio of honey to mustard to soy sauce is perfect: you get sweet and salty with a little bite to complement the mild fish. The whipped parsnips are smooth and just rich enough with butter and cream. Bok choy makes a crisp accompaniment.

These are not your typical mussels served in run-of-the-mill white wine broth. The tomato harissa broth is an addictive elixir. Even though the mussels are served with rice, you will want to have plenty of crusty bread on hand to sop up the flavorful goodness.