Cod

Between your favorite crab cake and a box of frozen fish sticks lies a world of crisp, easily produced fish cakes that make for great weeknight eating. In addition to fish, they all have two elements in common: something to “bind” the cake as it cooks and a fair amount of seasoning. My favorite way to hold fish cakes together is to mix the flaked meat with mashed potatoes, about three parts fish to one part potato. If you begin with a mild fish, like cod, the flavorings can be as adventuresome as you like. My preferred combination is a hefty dose of ginger and cilantro, spiked with a bit of hot red chile. The result is a zingy cake that needs nothing more than a squeeze of lime.

If you have forgotten how delicious a fillet of fish can be, do this: Steam it, with nothing. Drizzle it with olive oil and lemon. Sprinkle it with salt. Eat it. If the number of ingredients and technique are minimal, the challenge is not. You need a high-quality and uniformly thick piece of fish to begin with, your timing must be precise—which is all a matter of attention and judgment, really—and your olive oil flavorful. That taken care of, there is no better or easier preparation.

This is one of those recipes in which the shopping may take you longer than the cooking, because fennel stalks—or those from dill, which are nearly as good—are often discarded by grocers. When you buy a bulb of fennel, you’re buying the bottom, trimmed of its long stalks; when you buy a bunch of dill, you’re buying the feathery tops, trimmed of the stalks that support them. Because this recipe requires some of those stalks, you will probably have to speak directly to a produce manager, visit a farmstand or a friend’s garden, or simply get lucky. The technique of grilling fish on top of fennel or dill stalks solves a couple of problems at once: it seasons the fish subtly and without effort, and it helps prevent the fish from sticking to the grill and falling apart. In fact, this method allows you to grill even relatively delicate fillets like cod, usually one of the most challenging fishes to grill because of its tendency to fall apart as it nears doneness.

This is a simple marriage of butter, shallots, and mushrooms, splashed in a dose of hard cider (the dry, sparkling kind from France or England, sold nearly everywhere you can buy beer and wine) and used to poach fish in a hot oven. The fish may be haddock, cod, monkfish, halibut, red snapper, or any other white-fleshed fish. The cider provides a distinctively sour fruitiness, not at all like white wine, and the completed dish has complementary textures: crunchy shallots, meaty mushrooms (portobellos are good here), and tender fish.

Bouillabaisse, the Mediterranean fish stew that is more difficult to spell than to prepare, is traditionally neither an idée fixe nor the centerpiece of a grand bouffe, but a spur-of-the-moment combination of the day’s catch. The key to bouillabaisse is a variety of good fish of different types, so use this recipe as a set of guidelines rather than strict dogma and don’t worry about duplicating the exact types or quantities of fish.

A choucroute need not be meat, as is the more familiar one on page 404. Alsace, where the dish originated, has a long tradition of combining sauerkraut with fish. As is always the case, buy sauerkraut that is either sold in bulk or packed in plastic and contains no more than cabbage and salt. Serve with boiled potatoes.

Rémoulade is an all-purpose fish sauce, a super spicy, chunky variation on mayonnaise and perhaps the Platonic ideal of tartar sauce. You can use it with poached, baked, fried, even leftover fish, but I think it’s best with grilled fish. Swordfish is the most obvious candidate, but you can grill steaks of cod, mahimahi, mako, salmon, or tuna and serve them with rémoulade; monkfish is also good. This combination is pretty rich; I’d be satisfied with a decent bread and a salad or steamed vegetable dressed with no more than lemon juice.

Remember fish dishes baked with canned cream of mushroom soup? This is the original, and you may not believe how good it is. Never buy dried porcini in the tiny packages sold at stores. A package should contain at least an ounce, and the mushrooms should look like mushrooms, not powder. Given that you can buy a pound of dried porcini for as little as $25 (look on the Internet), you should expect to pay no more than $5 for an ounce. Serve this with buttered rice or noodles.

The ideal fish for this Norman preparation is Dover sole—the real thing, a fish with great flavor and unmatched texture. But this isn’t an ideal world—you’re unlikely to find Dover sole and equally unlikely to want to pay the asking price if you do. Fortunately, cod is a good substitute. In fact, as long as you don’t overcook it, it’s fantastic here. Any firm but not tough white fillet will also work: red snapper and black sea bass are excellent choices. If you can pick up mussels at the same time, by all means go for the variation; the broth and overall results will be improved markedly. In Normandy, this would inevitably be accompanied by a potato gratin like the one on page 482 and, if you were lucky, a salad.

People cook food in packages all over the world—the tamale counts as one, too—but leave it to the Italians to do it simply. In Rome, you would have this with bass or turbot, but really it can be made with any fillet you like. Cooking in packages requires a small leap of faith to determine that the food is done, because once you open the packages you want to serve them. This method has always worked well for me.

Sherry, garlic, and chickpeas, a decidedly Andalusian combination of flavors, is served by itself or as a side dish with almost any cut of meat, fish, or poultry. But I like it best with cod: the subtlety and tenderness of the fish are offset wonderfully by the big, almost meaty flavors of the scented chickpeas yet are not overwhelmed by them. If you have any advance inkling at all that you’re going to be tackling this recipe, try to cook dried chickpeas for it in advance (page 431). The best sherry to use here is Amontillado, which is slightly but not overpoweringly sweet; a ten-dollar bottle of Amontillado will suffice, and since you’re only going to use about a quarter of the bottle, there will be plenty left to chill and drink. Second choices would be slightly sweeter Oloroso or drier Fino.

This dish is usually made with pickled or salted fish, but it’s simpler (and, in my opinion, better) when made with lightly salted fresh fish. To be truly authentic, the chile should be a Scotch bonnet (habanero), which has a distinctive though fiery flavor, but any chile will do in a pinch. Serve this with Coconut Rice (page 516) or, even better, Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516).

A great cool salad, especially wonderful if you use fresh horseradish. (If you never have, buy just a small piece of the root, which looks like a tree root; peel and grate it, being careful not to get any of its juices in your eyes.) You can prepare the fish and dressing ahead of time and toss together immediately before serving.

These traditional bite-sized treats are served as a starter or a snack throughout the Caribbean (and, for that matter, in parts of Europe). They must be served hot: I recommend that you serve them to your guests while they’re standing around the stove and let them eat them with their fingers (or on toothpicks). If you want to serve them at the table, consider Aïoli (page 603) as a dipping sauce. Or you can follow Moorish traditions and serve them with honey or molasses.

Salt cod is an ancient food, the result of a need to preserve plentiful catch while still at sea. It has been used in many different ways, but one of the greatest is brandade de morue, a Provençal classic that is rich, filling, and truly special. Though salt cod isn’t available everywhere, it can be found in many supermarkets, without much trouble, and making brandade is easier than ever thanks to the food processor (use a mortar and pestle if you insist on tradition). Brandade can be served with crusty bread, spread on Crostini (page 41), or stuffed into roasted tomatoes or peppers, especially piquillo peppers (page 492 or 47).

Piquillos have so much going for them. Not only is their color stunning, their skin thin, and their flavor a near-perfect blend of sweet and hot, but one couldn’t bioengineer a better shape for stuffing. To precook the fish, simply put it in salted water to cover, bring the water to a boil, and turn off the heat. By the time the water cools, the fish will be done.

Fresh cod fillets are flaky and sweet and a favorite in my family for baking or broiling. In summer, I love thick cod steaks, cooked on the grill. Unlike fish more commonly cut for steaks—tuna, swordfish, shark, and others with firm texture—the softer flesh of cod can be a challenge to the griller, sometimes sticking to the rack or flaking apart. These problems are lessened by tying the steaks with twine, marinating in garlic oil, and searing on a hot clean grill. But even if you lose the perfect appearance or a flake of fish tears off, cod steaks are so sweet and delicious when grilled, it’s worth it. I serve cod with any (or all) of the cold sauces listed below; grilled lemon slices (see below) are a nice garnish too. Follow this basic procedure for any fish steak—tuna and the other firm-fleshed ones, or salmon, halibut, or bass.

A great way to enjoy baccalà mantecato, before you eat it all as a spread or dip, is as a dressing for cooked pasta; 1 cup is enough to make a flavorful sauce for a pound of spaghetti, other long dry pasta, or fresh maltagliati pasta, which my father always liked. It is also good to dress potato gnocchi. Transforming the baccalà mantecato into a pasta sauce is best done in a big skillet—14 inches in diameter—into which you can drop all the pasta, straight from the cooking pot, and dress it—see the first part of chapter 3 for the basics of skillet sauces and how pasta and sauce are finished together.

I love dishes made from preserved codfish, and in the Veneto they make marvelous use of cod preserved by different methods. Baccalà is codfish that has been salted, and this is made into baccalà alla trevigiana, which I share with you here. Then there is stoccafisso, codfish that has been air-dried and that is used for baccalà manteccato, whipped with olive oil and garlic. Today salted cod—baccalà—is available in many supermarkets, and your fishmonger should carry it. It comes in boneless sides, and it is best to get center cuts, which are meatier and less salty. In any case, thorough soaking, as detailed in the recipe, is vital to the success of the dish. In Treviso, baccalà alla trevigiana is always served with Baked Polenta (page 111), and the combination of flavors and textures is so delicious I never break tradition. Do the preliminary cooking of the polenta the day before you cook the baccalà, and you can finish both in the oven at the same time.

This main course needs no accompaniment other than a tossed green salad. Try the Mixed Green Salad with Citrus Dressing on page 54.

Cod is a lean fish that is available year-round and can be baked, broiled, or poached. Its mild taste pairs well with sharp flavors. Other firm, mild fish, including halibut, sole, or haddock, can be used in place of cod.

Chatham is a small town at the “elbow” of Massachusetts’ Cape Cod. As it is surrounded by water on three sides, fishing has historically been the major industry of the town. The sweet, mild-flavored cod caught off Chatham’s shores is the finest there is. Now, it might seem heretical for a Yankees fan such as I am to give a New England specialty equal billing with a Manhattan clam chowder, but even the Red Sox and the Yankees play on the same team for the All-Star game, right? This all-star dish surrounds creamy roasted potatoes and flaky cod with a tomato-accented broth-based clam chowder. Be sure to use Atlantic razor clams for the garnish. Pacific razor clams are larger and must be cleaned thoroughly and are cooked in a different manner, whereas the smaller Atlantic clam is ready to go!

Legend has it that when Catherine de Medici of Florence was wed to Henry of Aragon, she brought a Florentine chef with her to prepare the foods she adored. The Florentine style of cooking leans toward simple preparations of fresh foods to make consistently appealing meals. Traditionally, this dish uses a flaky white fish such as sole, cod, or halibut, but it does wonders for a salmon fillet or even orange roughy. Pack as much spinach as possible into the pot as it will cook down significantly Don’t be afraid to push down the leaves with the heel of your hand. Just be sure that the seal around the lid is tight when the pot goes in the oven.