Good Cook (18 page)

This particular recipe is, to be honest, all about the wonderful white butter sauce (beurre blanc), which goes so well with all kinds of fish. The first time I enjoyed it was, naturally, in France, about forty years ago, served up with a fine piece of wild salmon (for me its natural and most perfect partner). The fish in the picture that you see on
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accompanying the sauce (you see what I mean: sauce comes first) is an equally fine halibut cutlet, simply because on the day the dish was photographed, it was some super-fresh halibut that won the day’s fish shopping.

Apart from salmon and halibut, scallops are famously good with this sauce. The relatively recent revival of a famous old Parisian Left Bank “bistro deluxe,” chez Allard, does a particularly good version of St. Jacques au beurre blanc—or, at least, they did the last time I paid a visit. A split poached or steamed lobster is also happy being bathed in a small ladleful of beurre blanc. The fantastically expensive turbot is another thought for very special occasions, or its cheaper cousin, brill. And a pale pink fillet lifted from a sea trout (arriving in late spring) simply cries out for a little lubricating bb.

Note: a few words here regarding the sauce itself. I like the (very finely chopped) shallots left in the sauce, although some prefer to sieve them out. I think that to add cream negates the entire process, eventual taste and texture
of the emulsion; promoters of this—mild, it should be said—heresy say that it better “holds” the sauce. Well, be that as it may. Mine always holds very well indeed, thank you. But—BUT!—those who choose to fry the shallots in olive oil at the commencement of the sauce … well, I can only say that here be demons at work, culinary-wise. It is exactly that nuance of simmered raw shallots, quietly reducing and cooking away in nicely acidic liquids, that gives this legendary sauce its gentle charm. I rest my case.

To make the beurre blanc, mix together the shallots, vinegar, wine and water in a small, stainless steel pan. Allow this to reduce over a moderate heat until almost no liquid remains. Turn the heat down to very low indeed and then, using a small whisk, begin to incorporate the butter chunk by chunk, allowing each chunk to melt and homogenize before adding the next; it is also a good idea to occasionally take the pan off the heat, returning it when it is becoming too cool. Continue in this fashion until all the butter has been used up and the sauce has a pale and thin, custard-like consistency and verging on that white butter look, to be truthful. Season, and keep warm on the side of the stove.

Whichever fish or shellfish you choose, cook it as simply as possible: scallops, briefly brushed with olive oil and quickly seared in a non-stick frying pan; halibut (as shown here), lightly cooked on a ribbed, stove-top grill; salmon or sea trout I always prefer steamed or poached; turbot or brill, steamed or lightly grilled. Oysters, drained of their juices (slurp these first), can also be very good flashed under a hot broiler for a few moments, just to stiffen them, then napped with a spoon or two of beurre blanc. The most apt decoration, if you feel the need to pretty the dish, would be some finely snipped chives, naturally.

Here is a neat little dish that takes only a few minutes to prepare (and about time, you may well exclaim). It is also quite healthy.

Although I am using salmon fillets, here, you could also make the dish with salmon steaks or, even better, sections taken from a small, wild sea trout when in season, around the middle of May and continuing into early summer. Cook the sea trout on the bone and leave the skin intact, lifting it off once the fish is cooked; for fish cooked on the bone, allow a minute or two more cooking time.

Simply, take a large, solid-based, lidded pot and in it melt 2 tbsp of the butter over a medium heat. Add the shallot and soften it for a few minutes before pouring in the vermouth. Allow to bubble for a few moments, then tip in about a third of the spinach. Season lightly (don’t overdo the salt, remembering that the spinach will wilt dramatically) and add nutmeg. Pop the salmon on top of the spinach, top up with the rest of the spinach, and add the remaining butter, in small flakes, on top. Put on the lid and reduce the heat to low. Allow the fish to “steam” within the spinach leaves for about 7 minutes, then switch off the heat. Leave the lid intact for a further 7–10 minutes.

Remove the lid and push the spinach down into the pan, while also pushing it to one side, so revealing the pale pink salmon. Carefully retrieve the fish and put on to 2 warmed plates. Increase the heat under the spinach, stir it around vigorously, remove with a slotted spoon and pile alongside the salmon. Serve with the lemon to squeeze over the dish. Note: you may wish to somewhat reduce the liquid generated by the spinach juices, to add a more intense flavor while almost forming a sauce for the dish. However, do watch out for an increase in salt by virtue of this reduction.

This old favorite of mine is a quite marvelous assembly, although some don’t quite understand its charm. Apart from the fact that these detractors are wrong (ha!), they may also be unaware that it was originally offered to a discerning public when the great George Perry-Smith first put it on the menu at his legendary Hole in the Wall restaurant in Bath, some time during the early 1960s, if not before that (the restaurant, in fact, opened in 1952). With the pitch-perfect taste in food that this man had, he could not conceivably fashion something seen as tasteless.

For both my fortieth and fiftieth birthdays (celebrated together with my late, and dearest, best chum, the wine merchant Bill Baker), the Bristol-based
cook Stephen Markwick (see
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) cooked enormous quantities of this particularly delicious salmon creation—together with many other wonderful dishes too. Well, talk about the ecstatic reviews by over 100 guests, some of whom returned more than once to the salmon, saying … “Oh, all right then, just another wafer-thin slice …”

To make the pastry, cut the butter into small chunks and place in a large bowl with the flour and salt. Gently rub the fat into the flour, using fingertips, until the texture resembles very coarse breadcrumbs (you may wish to use a food processor to do this, but watch out for initial overworking). Mix in just enough water to bind the mixture together. Lightly knead the dough until well combined, dust with flour and slip into a plastic bag. Place in the fridge for 30 minutes before using.

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

To make the sauce messine, first beat together the egg yolks and mustard in a bowl. Add the herbs, shallots, butter and cream and whisk together. Now place the bowl over gently simmering water and stir continuously until the sauce thickens to the consistency of custard. Squeeze in the lemon juice and season. Keep warm on the side of the stove, or over the hot water diluted with a little cold water, so that it is warm rather than hot, to avoid curdling the sauce.

In a small bowl, mix together the ginger, currants and softened butter. Cut the salmon into 2 equal pieces across the grain of the flesh, and season. Sandwich the two pieces together with the ginger/currant/butter mixture. Roll out the pastry until a little more than an eighth of an inch thick (you may not need quite all of it, so freeze any remaining), place the salmon in the middle of it, then brush the beaten egg all around the exposed pastry. Fold the pastry over the fish, press together, and then carefully turn it over so that the seal is underneath. Brush the surface of this package with egg-wash, tuck in the ends, trim off any excess, then seal together with the tines of a fork.

Place on a lightly greased baking sheet and bake in the oven for 20–25 minutes, or until golden and crisp. Cut into thick slices using a sharp, serrated knife and serve with the sauce spooned alongside.