Last week for Tenant’s Meal, my dad decided just as I got back from the store that, um, actually, he was really hungry right now, so how about we go out and grab something, and I just cook for Madge and her friend tomorrow since he’d be out of town?
Done.
Part of the way this whole deal is designed is essentially to be a game in menu costing – meaning, that I’m paid a flat X amount per Tenant’s Meal (of at least 3 courses), and obviously, the greater the delta between my food costs and that amount, the greater the amount I pocket.
So naturally, I pay attention to what’s, um, featured at a few various markets on the given day I’m going to be cooking. Obviously, I check out the specials for the deals, but I’ve also been introduced to new things, or encouraged to actually try making others I normally just enjoy when someone else is at the stove, simply because it’s put in front of me. Which is how I finally discovered two things last week: a) Mommy wow! I can cook fish, like the kind with scales and gills, after all (and craptarts is it easy!) and b) Steelhead Trout. At all. <—This is the part you’ll thank me for later.
Before I go further, I should make a distinction that I’m not nervous about cooking all fish. In fact, shellfish has been my go-to crutch protein for years. Whether living on my own or con familia, I’ve pretty much always had a bag of raw shrimp in the freezer to defrost and sauté with lemon and soy sauce (I save the flaming onion stack and “Japanese egg roll!” for birthdays) or obscene, it’s-nights-like-this-it’s-good-to-be-single amounts of garlic, with a splash of lemon, white wine, maybe some roasted tomatoes, whatevs. Seriously, frozen (raw) shrimp have been the difference between real.live.dinner. and “pierce film to vent” more times than I’m proud to admit.
They aren’t just sweatpants food, though, oh no. Need a semi-impressive dinner for an untold number of people? Enter seafood risotto – shrimp, scallops, a little lump crab for good measure; serve with massive salad, fabulous bread and good wine, and it’s like literal loaves and fishes that can be stretched between two or twenty. Bunch of carb-phobic killjoys? (HI, MOM!) Cioppino works just as well – and yes, it does have “fish-fish”, but somehow “select freshest firm, white fish available; cut in chunks; drop in pot” doesn’t petrify me the way “potentially scald yourself down to the bone with broiling hot popping fish oil” has. Same massive salad, maybe some pasta to serve alongside for the Carpe Calories crowd, and you’re good to go.
But fish fish? Like, the kind I’d happily eat 6 days a week if it didn’t stink up my kitchen or have scales ‘n stuff? I don’t know why, because I know that plenty of people who all but set toast on fire cook fish, successfully, on the regular – but I’ve just had this psychological hangup about cooking fish. I think partly because it’s been a pretty exclusive grill protein in my world – even in the dead of winter, my mom would whip up the salads and sides and all that fabulousness inside, prep the fish and all, but my dad would come home, light the grill, pour a drink, and go throw the fish on; come back in, and in the time he unpacked and settled in from work, ta-da, fish is done (the man takes roughly 7:34 to get ready for the day, shower-to-shoes, so this is not a long process). But seriously – when you can have nomnom grilled fish in January, why would you bother even risking stinking up your kitchen?
Because not everybody has a grill, and it’s oh-my-god-I’m-almost-angry-at-myself-easy, THAT’s why. Oh, and because it doesn’t stink up your kitchen! At least, it doesn’t have to. If you have an oven, a few aromatics, fifteen minutes and some foil, you have no excuse to not be eating your half-priced, hot-pink, omega-3 packed sustainable filet of deliciousness as frequently as you damn well please. That’s right. Salmon-that’s-not-salmon, for half the cost of salmon, with the same nutrition as salmon. Boom.
By now, we all know how delicious and healthy and wonderful and sea-flesh-of-the-gods salmon is, right? But unfortunately, it’s not always the most sustainable option, and while wild salmon is definitely healthier and tastier (don’t waste your tastebuds, money, or eco-karma on farmed, y’all), it’s not always in season, aka particularly affordable. There’s also that thing where salmon has been the default “but we’re sick of chicken” protein in my house since roughly 1997, so delicious as it may be, it’s got some wear…some “meh”… some “vanilla fish”, if you will, attached to it. For me. Because I’m weird. Salmon isn’t special. Or on trend. And Tenant’s Meal is supposed to be special and on trend.
Trout, however, is making a comeback. It’s a great “local” option almost anywhere, because if you’ve got a big enough lake within 100 miles, you’re bound to have edible trout; it’s got many if not all of the same nutrients as the other, more popular anti-inflammatory favorites, and –wait for it – it’s generally a lot cheaper. So when I saw that there was some “steelhead trout” fishymahbob featured at my local market, I did a little googlin’ to figure out exactly what it was I was contemplating serving, and kind of flipped out – in a good way.
Steelhead trout is the exact same species as Rainbow Trout – it’s just the ocean-dwelling variety, whereas Rainbow Trout is found in lakes, rivers, streams and the like. Because it lives a more salmon-y lifestyle, it develops more like salmon, and therefore, ends up looking, and tasting, more like salmon – in fact, some markets will sell it as “salmon trout”, and in a blind taste test, it’s hard for a lot of average, “um…I just like fish?” types to tell them apart. It gets better – not only does it stand up to salmon on the plate, but in the nutritional deets, as well, with roughly the same amounts of omega-3’s, niacin and B12 as our former favorite pink fish.
I had to give it a shot, and mother of pescatarians, am I glad I did. We’ve already eaten it again since I made it the first time (and I’m about to go faceplant in the costco-sized leftovers as soon as I hit “publish”).
Naturally, there were other courses and veggies involved, but I’m trying to get better about remembering that I can, um, split up posts? That this internet thing, it’ll be here tomorrow, and the next day? So yeah. Sideshow noms to follow. But honestly? who needs em? You’re really not going to want to eat much else, I promise. It’s that good.
Smack
adapted from epicurious.com
INGREDIENTS:
1 lb steelhead trout filets, (skin status doesn’t matter)
3 cloves garlic, minced (or ground into a paste; or 2 cloves worth of squeezy paste garlic)
2 TBSP fresh rosemary, chopped so insanely fine it’s almost dust-like (because you only have to get gum-stabbed by rosemary once to be suspect of it forever)
2 tablespoons fresh basil, chopped similarly paste-fine (I actually used the squeezy basil for this instead, intentionally and preferably)
zest of one large or two meyer lemons
juice of the same
salt and pepper to taste
2 TBSP olive oil (give or take), plus more for the pan
TO-DO:
Make sure your oven racks are adjusted such that there’s one in the middle or higher, and one on the bottom or second-to-bottom slots.
Preheat broiler (There’s a button on your oven that says “BROIL” – Push it. THE END – usually – and if not, then select “LO / MED /HI” or comperable. Nothing scary, promise).
Line a baking sheet or roasting pan with foil and brush with olive oil
Mix the garlic, rosemary, basil, lemon zest, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and 1-2 TBSP of the olive oil. If you have a mortar and pestle, this would be a good time to bust it out. If not, make sure your ingredients really are chopped as finely as you can manage without including bits of your digits, then whisk it until your fingers go numb. Kidding. Kind of.
Place the fish on your prepared pan, skin-to-foil if your fish has skin (mine did). Spread the herb mixture over the exposed fleshy part of the fish, covering evenly and heavily.
Place the fish under the broiler (on the middle rack or higher) for about 5 minutes, or just until it begins to really sear the meaty, face-up portion – but definitely before the herbs begin to brown or smell funny.
Switch your oven to it’s temperature-specific setting (this is often the “BAKE” button, but sometimes as vague as “START”) and adjust to 325F degrees. Move the fish to the lower rack and continue to let it do it’s thing for another 10-ish minutes, or until cooked to your desired doneness in the thickest section.*
Transfer to platter or plates, and consume without concern for carb or calorie (if that’s your thing).
*NOTE: If you have a huge piece of fish the size of a small toddler like they sell at Costco, and are preparing this planning to have leftovers to reheat later, go ahead and pull from the oven while the sides/thinner parts are ready-to-eat, but the middle/thickest portions are still a little underdone. That way, when you nuke your fish for lunch tomorrow, it’s got a little wiggle room to keep cooking, and you’re not angrily choking it down between sips of water, remembering how buttery and delicious it was last night and cursing the fluorescent desk lighting under which you’re now forced to consume such a delicacy. I mean, go ahead and curse the lighting, but don’t pile on by force-feeding yourself dry fish if you can help it.