CHOOSING SEAFOOD
BEYOND THE USUAL CONCERNS WITH FRESHNESS AND PROPER HANDLING, IT IS especially important when buying seafood to know where the product is coming from and how it was harvested or raised. The tenuous state of many world fisheries owes to years of unsustainable, indiscriminate fishing practices, aggravated by problems associated with certain types of aquaculture. But determining what you should and shouldn’t buy can be difficult; new problems are emerging constantly, and existing ones are evolving rapidly, as populations recover, or as their decline accelerates. In addition to that volatility, specific issues and remedies vary from species to species and from region to region for the same type of seafood~the status of Atlantic versus Pacific swordfish and tunas being good examples of that.
Although there will be no quick or permanent solution to the crisis in our oceans, consumers’ preferences and purchases will make a difference. Supporting well-managed fisheries and fisherman who fish sustainably is imperative. For example, you can begin by purchasing only hook-and-line-caught cod instead of accepting trawler fish, or by turning down farmed shrimp or salmon; both will send a signal to your fish market that constant availability and the lowest price are not your highest priorities. Paying a little extra for sustainable seafood rewards the stores and fishermen who are making the extra effort to preserve the ocean’s resources. You will find guidelines for certain items in individual recipes, and in Sources and Resources, here, I recommend a publication that can help you understand the issues and sort out what is sustainable for a given type of seafood.
BOILED DUNGENESS CRAB
DUNGENESS CRAB {CANCER MAGISTER} IS A RELATIVE OF THE ROCK CRAB, NAMED for the spot on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula where they were first commercially harvested. Today, commercial crabbing operations extend from Northern California to Alaska. Fresh, perfectly cooked Dungeness crab is fluffy, succulent, and sweet with a briny nuance. When it is in season {mid-November through early May}, we serve cracked crab every day that we can get frisky, live ones. Dungeness crab is so pure and good that way that I largely forget that it is also delicious grilled or smokily roasted in the brick oven. A platter of cracked crab can make a great main course, although I usually prefer to start with it~the ritual of cracking and extracting meat may hamper conversation, but, like oysters on the half-shell, it is such a complete and rich delicacy that I feel it deserves a clean palate and ready appetite. The elaborations I like the best are simple composed salads; freshly cooked, cracked and picked from the shell, crabmeat is delicious in a salad of endive, grapefruit, and avocado {here}. This is a low-margin, or no-margin, labor of love in a restaurant, but a seductive one that home cooks can enjoy without that concern. You can glean about 8 ounces of hard-earned meat from a 2-pound Dungeness crab.
It is simple to prepare a great cracked crab, although it is also easy to produce a dull one. The critical work is in choosing the crab, the pot, and the burner. Select feisty crabs that were caught that day, or the night before. Don’t buy a crab that is already dead, or barely alive~it will have released autolytic enzymes that damage flavor and texture. Expect it to taste dull to awful; its texture will be limp and stringy. In the best case, where live crabs are displayed in a tank full of sea-water, ask when they were pulled from the ocean. Choose a crab that is heavy for its size and has a really hard shell. Dark, saturated shell color is a good sign as well. That crab will be more full of meat than one that, just a few weeks from molting, is still spending energy building its shell rather than tasty muscle. For this reason, the first hard-shelled crabs of the commercial season often yield less meat, and can be less tasty. {And this is also why the best eating soft-shells are just-molted ones~they haven’t redirected their energies to shell production yet.}
Keep the live crab cool and moist~wrapping in wet newspaper is one method, but the paper tends to cling to the crab and tears easily when the crab thrashes. A more convenient way to store an angry crab is to place it in a brown paper grocery bag, fold it shut, and run the bag under cold water. Slide this inside a second bag and refrigerate until just before cooking. Cook the crab the same day you buy it, ideally within a few hours.
For a 2- to 2-1/2-pound crab, choose a 10- to 12-quart pot, preferably not a lot wider than your most powerful burner. Bring at least 6 quarts of water to a boil. Salt liberally~my fish broker suggests the boil should rival seawater for saltiness {that is, if you can’t get seawater, which he actually prefers}; I add only 2 tablespoons salt per gallon, a lot, but not as salty as seawater. I don’t add herbs, spices, or aromatic vegetables to the water; there is no perfume I’d add to improve upon the purity and subtle sweetness of unadulterated Dungeness crab. Likewise, wine, vinegar, or lemon can toughen the meat if you add them to the boil. And, far from adding finesse, their pungent flavors readily dominate delicate crabmeat.
Rinse the crab with cold water just before you cook it. Place in the boiling water and cover the pot to encourage the water to return to a full boil as rapidly as possible. This is to rapidly disable those autolytic enzymes mentioned above throughout the crab. {Once the water has boiled again, you can remove the lid, if only to prevent boiling over and the mess that makes.} Cook for about 6 minutes per pound, timed from the returned-to-a-boil moment. To check for doneness, twist a leg from the body and look at the feather of flesh it pulls with it; it should be opaque, glowing white, and firm. If it is translucent and grayish white, like skim milk, cook for another minute or so. Don’t undercook. Use tongs to lift the crab from the pot, supporting the steamy catch with a slotted spoon or strainer. Rinse under cold running water. If you can’t clean the crab right away, shock it in ice water to stop the cooking, then drain and keep cold until you can clean it, which should be within the half hour.
To clean the crab, remove the top shell to reveal the body cavity full of soft purple, gold, and white fat and tissue. Remove the ten feathery gills that flank either side of the body cavity. Rinse the crab quickly but thoroughly under cold water. Turn it over and lift the tip of the triangular piece of armor that lays flat against the breast. Fold it backward, and pluck it from the carapace. {You can save this piece and the top shell to make shellfish fumet.}
Turn the crab over and cut it in half down the middle. Cut each half into 5 pieces, corresponding to the legs, cutting straight down through the center of each of the smooth sections of translucent shell that protect the body meat. This will expose all that meat, making it perfectly accessible to the clumsiest fingers with no special tools. To crack the sturdier of the legs, gently fracture each section with the backside of a heavy knife or with a clean hammer. Whack the shell with restraint, so you don’t shatter it and smash the meat. You can, of course, use a nut- or crab-cracker, or serve uncracked crab with enough crackers for your likely impatient diners. You can usually break into the smaller legs by hand, and use the thornlike claw tips as a tool to retrieve bits of meat from inside the skinny ones.
For the best flavor, serve immediately. If not serving within half an hour, wrap loosely and refrigerate. Time and refrigeration will gradually stiffen and dry out the meat and mute the delicate flavor, so aim to cook no more than a few hours before serving.
Rinse, drain, and triple-wrap shells, and, if they occur, scraps of meat, and freeze for Shellfish Fumet {here} or bisque {here}.
Wine: Saint-Véran, Domaine Corsin, 2000
SAND DABS with SHALLOTS, SEA BEANS, & SHERRY VINEGAR
A RICHLY FLAVORED PANFRY THAT HAS A PUNGENT, DELICIOUS AROMA. “Sea beans” are glasswort, a crunchy, briny marsh succulent. We use fresh sea beans in the late spring when they are briefly in season, and pickled ones the rest of the year {see Pickled Glasswort, here}. You can substitute capers or caperberries. In lieu of sand dabs, a mild, succulent flatfish that is a San Francisco delicacy, you can use small, whole, pan-ready sole or flounder. By “pan-ready,” I mean gutted, scaled, head and tail removed, and fins trimmed. Filleted fish is an option as well, but adjust the cooking time accordingly, and be prepared for it to curl as it cooks. Skate wing is another good choice~the skate in black butter of French tradition is the obvious inspiration for this dish.
A large nonstick skillet is the best choice here. If you don’t have one, clarify half of the butter {see Note below} before you brown the fish in it {or any time you plan to pan-brown a wet protein or starch in butter}. To keep wet fish from sticking to a non-nonstick pan, you need to use higher heat, and the solids in whole butter would burn at that temperature. Clarifying also removes the water, which makes food stick, from the butter.
If you are new to panfrying fragile things, you should opt for the larger fish~it will be easier to manage 4 sizzling, slippery objects than 8.
Serve with new potatoes, boiled or steamed in their skins.
Wine: Kaseler Nies’chen Riesling, Kesselstatt, 1999
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
8 small or 4 large pan-ready sand dabs, about 3 or 7 ounces, respectively, and 1/2 inch thick, or 4 pan-ready flatfish, such as sole or flounder, about 7 to 8 ounces each, or about 1-1/2 pounds sole or flounder fillets
About 1 cup all-purpose flour
3 ounces slivered shallots {scant 3/4 cup or about 3 large shallots}
2/3 cup fresh glasswort or 1/3 cup drained Pickled Glasswort or 1/3 cup rinsed caperberries or 1/4 cup rinsed capers
8 tablespoons {1 stick} unsalted butter {or 4 tablespoons clarified plus 4 tablespoons whole unsalted butter, if using a non-nonstick pan}
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
Briefly rinse the fish and pat dry. Lightly salt them all over. {You can do this step up to a few hours in advance; if you do, cover the fish loosely and refrigerate.}
Ten minutes to an hour before cooking the fish, pat dry again and dredge in flour. Tap to remove the excess flour, arrange, barely touching one another, on a platter or sheet pan, and refrigerate. This will help set the crust for easier handling and less flour will shed into, and taint, the pan sauce.
Heat about half of the butter in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. When it has melted and separated, but before it begins to color, give the fish a last flour-shedding tap and gently lay them in the pan; they should sizzle on contact. Don’t try to move the fish until they have set a crust. Cook until golden on both sides and cooked through, about 3 minutes per side, adjusting the time if your fish are thicker or thinner than 1/2 inch. Monitor closely, and reduce the heat if the butter is threatening to color beyond golden, or raise it if the fish are not coloring at all. Turn the fish gently, trying not to crack the golden crust; I lift and turn them with a metal spatula, nudging with a wooden spoon so they land where I want them to. When the fish are cooked, remove the pan from the heat and transfer to warm plates or a platter. Protect from drafts while you concoct the simple pan sauce.
Pour off the butter if it is darker than hazelnut colored. Return the pan to medium-low heat and add the remaining butter, the shallots, and glasswort, caperberries, or capers. Cook, stirring constantly, until the shallots have just lost their raw edge. Raise the heat slightly and add the vinegar. Taste as it comes to a boil, but it shouldn’t need salt~the briny wort or capers will likely provide enough. Spoon over the fish and serve piping hot, while the heady aroma of brown butter and evaporating vinegar is still concentrated.
Note: To clarify butter, melt the butter in your smallest, narrowest saucepan, or a butter warmer, over low heat. Monitor it as it comes to a controlled, quiet simmer, then let it bubble for a minute. Pull from the heat and leave to settle and separate, which should take 10 minutes or less. Skim the surface, then gently tilt the pan and pour the clear yellow butter off the water and solids at the bottom of the pan.
WHOLE SEA BREAM ROASTED on ONIONS with TOMATOES, PARSLEY, & MINT
A SIMPLE METHOD TO FLATTER SMALL WHOLE FISH. Where open roasting can dry out larger fish, a higher proportion of skin and bone keeps small fish succulent. Count one of these fish per two diners; for larger groups, cook two or more fish in separate pans or placed a few inches apart in one large pan. You can substitute whole striped bass, black sea bass, tautog {blackfish}, snapper, or pompano, or, on the Pacific Coast, the best of the rockfish, Bolina rock cod. Choose shiny, firm fish that smell faintly of the ocean. Ask the fishmonger to clean and scale the fish, or allow about ten minutes to clean it yourself.
Use the sweetest onions you can for this dish~tender, sweet red ones or Vidalia, Walla Walla, Granex, Imperial Valley, or Maui. If you can’t get a sweet onion variety, you may need to stew the salted onions briefly to soften them before you roast the fish. If you like fennel, try sprinkling a few crushed seeds on the fish or stuffing a branch into its belly before you roast it. Then use the chopped feathery fronds in lieu of the mint with the onions. Or use a half cup of Salmorigano {here} to marinate the onions and baste the fish.
Wine: Mercurey Blanc, Clos Rochette, Faiveley, 1999
FOR 2 SERVINGS:
8 ounces sliced red or yellow onions {2 cups, about 1 medium onion}
Salt
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
A handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, coarsely chopped
A dozen fresh mint leaves, coarsely chopped
1 sea bream or black sea bass, about 1-3/4 pounds, or about 1-1/2 pounds cleaned and scaled
1 small, ripe, juicy tomato {about 4 to 5 ounces}
About 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
Seasoning the onions and fish {several hours in advance}:
Combine the onions with a few pinches of salt, enough olive oil to coat, and most of the parsley and mint. Knead and toss until the onions begin to soften. Set aside at room temperature to continue softening.
If necessary, clean and scale the fish. Rinse the fish under cold running water, opening the belly and throat to wash out blood or remaining viscera. Pat dry, inside and out.
Make two parallel slashes in the thickest section of each side of the fish, about halfway down to the bone. {This will expose more surface area to the seasoning and will also ensure the fat sections cook as rapidly as the skinnier parts.} Sprinkle the fish all over with salt, making sure some salt falls in the slashes. Open the belly and sprinkle a little salt inside. Cover loosely and refrigerate until needed.
Cooking the fish:
Preheat the oven to 500°.
Check the onions: they should be quite soft and moist. Taste one. If it is still firm or harsh tasting, cook the onions in a small saucepan over low heat, covered, until softened, 5 minutes or so. Spread the onions 1/2 inch deep in a shallow oval or rectangular 1-quart gratin dish or ovenproof 10-inch skillet. Whether raw or cooked, add a few tablespoons of water if they are dry.
Core, halve, and slice the tomato a scant 1/4 inch thick. Tuck about half of the slices into the bed of onions. {If the shoulder and heel pieces are tender, include them here; if they are tough, set aside for tomato sauce.}
Rub the fish thoroughly all over with a few spoonfuls of the olive oil and nestle it in the onions. If the fish hangs far over the edge of your dish, trim the tail, or consider removing the head. Arrange the remaining tomato slices on the fish, more or less echoing the curve of the gills. Press them into place, so they adhere to the fish, and to make them release juice. Season lightly with salt and drizzle with a little more olive oil. Place in the center of the oven and roast until just cooked through. A 2-1/2- to 3-inch-thick 1-1/2-pound fish should take about 17 to 20 minutes. The edges of the tomatoes and tips of the onions should brown~if they aren’t coloring within 14 minutes, raise the heat to broil and watch closely so that they don’t char. Cooking time will vary according to the fish, your oven, the size and shape of the dish, and the material it is made of. {You will get lovely results with glazed terra-cotta~it absorbs and transfers heat gently, but it may take longer than porcelain, Pyrex, or an ovenproof skillet. In any case, if you use the same roasting vessel even a few times, you will learn how evenly and rapidly it conducts heat, and you may eventually opt for a different oven temperature. Here, as elsewhere, this sort of attention and experience allows you to thoughtfully subvert the strictures of a recipe.}
While the fish is cooking, stir together about 1/4 cup olive oil with the vinegar and the rest of the parsley and mint. Salt to taste.
Bring the fish, in the baking dish, to the table. To serve, first remove the dorsal and ventral fins and any attendant little bones they try to drag with them {I pull the fins out by hand}. Slide a knife in at an angle under the “collar” of the fish, freeing the neck end of the fillet. Carve a line down the center of the top fillet from head to tail. Slide the knife blade flat against the vertebrae and lift the top fillet out in two sections, serving one tomato-topped section to each diner. Since the section around the belly is no more than a slip of flesh lined with long, scythe-shaped bones, don’t bother trying to lift that part of the fillet. Gently lift the exposed central bone by the tail, and use the tip of your knife to gradually free the other fillet, so it falls back into the bed of onions. Discard the central bone. Serve the second fillet, then drizzle the onions with a little of the vinaigrette and shimmy the pan gently so it disperses. Spoon some of the juicy onions onto each plate, checking for fugitive bones as you go. Offer the remaining vinaigrette on the side.
TO CLEAN A WHOLE FISH
REMOVE THE SCALES BY SCRAPING THE FISH FROM TAIL TO HEAD with the dull side of a knife held at an angle. First the scales will “pop up”; with a few more strokes, they will fall off. Continue dragging the knife over the whole surface of the fish until the skin is soft and smooth. Rinse the fish briefly under cold water, then use the tip of a boning knife to open the belly, cutting from the peppercorn-sized vent at one end toward the “chin” of the fish and making a shallow cut, away from yourself, and with the blade facing out. Pull out the entrails and rinse the belly cavity. Lift the hard collar-flap {the operculum} to reveal the gills. Cut through the bone where the belly meets the chin of the fish. Trace the comb-like gills to where they attach to the spine and cut them free. Flip the fish over and repeat on the other side. Remove the gills, which will drag a little viscera with them. If you or your guests are skittish about the head, lift the collar-flap again and make a clean cut through the spine to remove the head.
SEA BASS with LEEKS, POTATOES, & THYME
SORT OF A BASS BONNE FEMME, THE FISH BEING COOKED IN A CHUNKY STEW OF leeks and potatoes that recalls that traditional French soup. We use plump white sea bass fillets, but black bass and turbot are good alternatives. The fillets need to be between 1 and 1-1/2 inches thick in order to cook properly, which means avoiding tail pieces.
The first time you make this dish, plan to watch it closely while it is in the very hot oven {all of about 10 minutes}. My pan placement instructions and cooking times are necessarily only guidelines~you may need to adjust one or both to the characteristics of your oven, pan, or fish.
Wine: Chassagne-Montrachet, E. Sauzet, 1999
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
4 pieces sea bass fillet, about 6 ounces each and 1 to 1-1/2 inches thick
Salt
About 3/4 pound peeled yellow-fleshed potatoes, preferably yellow Finnish, Bintje, or German Butterballs, cut into irregular bite-sized chunks
1-1/2 cups diced or thinly sliced leeks {including a little bit of the green part}
A few sprigs of fresh thyme
About 1-1/4 cups Chicken Stock {here}
A splash or so of dry white vermouth
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, sliced and chilled
A trickle of Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar, if needed
Seasoning the fish {For the best flavor, do this a few hours in advance}:
Season the fish lightly and evenly with salt. Cover loosely and refrigerate.
Cooking the fish:
Preheat the broiler. Position the rack so it is about 6 inches from the element.
Place the potatoes in a saucepan, add cold water to cover, and set over medium heat. Season liberally with salt {we use a scant 1-1/2 teaspoons sea salt per quart}, stir, and taste. The water should taste as seasoned as you would like the potatoes to be. Cook the potatoes at a gentle simmer until quite tender and soft on the edges, about 5 minutes. {Some of the soft potatoes will later diffuse in the sauce, giving the dish its homey character.}
Drain the potatoes well and place them, still steaming, in a 12- or 14-inch ovenproof skillet. Add the leeks, thyme, about 1 cup of the chicken stock, and a splash of vermouth. Set over medium heat and swirl as the broth comes to a simmer. Add about 4 tablespoons of the butter, and swirl until it melts. Taste for salt. Reduce the heat to low and add the fish. Swirl and tilt the pan to baste the surface of the fish with the buttery broth. The liquid level should rise as the bass releases moisture into the broth. If it doesn’t, add a little more chicken stock.
Make sure no bits of leek are stuck to the sides of the pan, or marooned on top of the fish, and place the pan under the broiler. Cook until the surface of the fish and potatoes is lightly gratinéed, about 5 to 6 minutes. The liquid should be bubbling vigorously. Reduce the oven temperature to 500°. Cook until the fish is medium-rare, another 1 to 5 minutes.
While the fish is cooking, set a small, shallow platter and four plates to warm in the oven for a minute or so, then remove.
Transfer the fish pan to the stovetop. Using a spatula and tongs, lift the fish, tilt to drain slightly, then place on the warm platter, protected from drafts {don’t stack the pieces of fish}. The fish will finish cooking as it rests.
Swirl the pan gently over medium heat to encourage the potatoes to thicken the sauce as it simmers. Taste. Add the remaining butter and adjust the salt. Tilt the platter of fish over the pan and carefully drain any liquid into the simmering sauce. Continue simmering to reduce the sauce as needed, until it has a little body, then taste again. If it seems flat, add a splash of vermouth or a few drops of vinegar. {Don’t reach for lemon; its perfume can easily dominate all others and it is out of character for this dish.} Transfer the fish to the warmed plates and spoon the sauce and potatoes over all.
Note: At Zuni, this dish and the two fish dishes that follow brown and reduce beautifully in our brick oven; the burner-then-hot-broiler technique mimics those blistering conditions.
SALMON COOKED with FLAGEOLETS, BACON, & RED WINE
AN EARTHY SALMON DISH, BEST MADE WITH FAT, LATE-SUMMER SALMON WHICH will stand up to the challenge of the other long, rich flavors. We use Pacific salmon~Sacramento River Basin Kings or wild Alaskan~for this, or any salmon dish. All commercial salmon labeled “Atlantic” is farmed; I find its flavor disappointing to dreadful, and the environmental effects of salmon farming can be devastating to surrounding waters and wild fish. Choose fat pieces of fish; thin tail pieces will cook too rapidly. As long as you don’t overcook the salmon, or over-reduce the sauce, the result will be satiny and succulent. If you have a scrap of bacon left from a recent Pasta with Braised Bacon and Roasted Tomato Sauce {here}, it will be delicious in this dish. You can substitute lentils for the flageolets.
Be prepared to adjust the oven temperature or distance from the broiler as necessary when you make this dish.
Wine: Iron Horse Alexander Valley Sangiovese, 1998
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
4 pieces salmon fillet, preferably King, about 6 ounces each and 1 to 1-1/2 inches thick
Salt
1-1/3 cups medium-bodied red wine, such as Sangiovese, Pinot Noir, or a light Merlot
3/4 cup Chicken Stock {here}
3 ounces thickly sliced bacon or braised bacon {see here}, cut into 1/4-inch strips
About 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, sliced and chilled
1/2 cup finely diced carrots {2 ounces}
1/2 cup finely diced celery {2 ounces}
1/2 cup finely diced yellow onions {2 ounces}
2 cups cooked flageolets {see here}, drained, cooking liquid reserved
A few sprigs of fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
Seasoning the salmon {For the best flavor, do this several hours in advance}:
Season the salmon evenly with salt. Cover loosely and refrigerate.
Cooking the salmon:
Preheat the broiler. Position the rack about 6 inches from the element.
Place the wine in a small saucepan and reduce to about 1/3 cup. Add the chicken stock and return to a simmer. Turn off the heat.
Place the bacon in a 12- or 14-inch ovenproof skillet and lightly brown it in its own fat over medium heat. Reduce the heat slightly and pour off all but a film of the fat. Add about 2 tablespoons of the butter, the carrots, celery, onions, and 1 sprig of the thyme. Cook, stirring, until the vegetables are tender, about 6 minutes.
Add the flageolets, about 1 cup of the red wine–stock mixture, the bay leaf, another sprig of thyme, and about 3 tablespoons of the butter. Raise the heat to medium and swirl as the liquid comes to a simmer. Reduce the heat to low, add the salmon, and swirl and tilt the pan to baste the top of the fish. Make sure no beans, bacon, or bits of vegetables are perched on top of the fish, where they could burn. The pieces of fish should not be touching one another.
Place the pan under the broiler. Cook for about 6 or 7 minutes; the salmon should be quite rare and the whole surface of the dish should be sizzling and beginning to color. Watch closely; if the fish or beans threaten to char at any point, reduce the oven temperature to 500°.
While the fish is cooking, set four plates in the oven to heat for a minute or so, then remove.
Transfer the pan to the stovetop. Using a spatula and tongs, transfer the salmon onto the warm plates, where it should reach medium-rare as you finish the sauce. Protect from drafts.
Set the pan over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Taste. If the liquid looks or tastes thin, simmer briefly to reduce and allow the starch from the beans to bind the sauce. If it seems winy, add a splash of the reserved bean cooking liquid. If you want more sauce, add the last splash of red wine–stock mixture and some bean liquid. Correct the salt. Reduce the heat and swirl in some or all of the remaining butter, to your taste.
Spoon the saucy beans over the waiting fish.
MONKFISH BRAISED with WHITE BEANS, FENNEL, & TOMATO
THIS DISH REAPPEARS IN A NUMBER OF FORMS AT ZUNI, SOMETIMES WITH THICKLY sliced boiled potatoes instead of beans, or with house-salted cod in lieu of monkfish, or with big chunks of blanched leeks in place of the fennel. In summer, we shove a bouquet of basil stems into the tomato sauce, or stir whole leaves into the simmering sauce just before baking it. In any variation, the recipe is forgiving with regard to exact amounts, so long as each of the elements is delicious to begin with. And succulent, meaty monkfish is fairly forgiving with regard to cooking time.
If you plan to make the fumet, ask for monkfish bones when you buy the fillets. {The fumet will take less than an hour to make.} You can cook the beans a day or two in advance.
Wine: Fleurie, Domaine Berrod, 2000
FOR 4 GENEROUS SERVINGS:
4 chunks monkfish fillet, about 6 ounces each, skin and translucent membrane removed
Salt
1/2 cup mild-tasting olive oil
1 medium fennel bulb, trimmed and cut into 1/2-inch-thick wedges {about 8 ounces}
3/4 cup diced yellow onions {3 ounces}
1/2 cup dry white wine
6 ounces very ripe tomatoes, peeled, cored {1 large or 2 small}, cut into wedges, and lightly salted, or 3/4 cup drained canned tomatoes, quartered
A few garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 small dried chili or a pinch of dried chili flakes
A pinch of saffron threads
A splash of pastis, such as Pernod or Ricard, or ouzo {optional}
About 1 cup Monkfish Fumet {here} or Chicken Stock {here}
About 1-1/2 cups cooked white beans {see here}, drained, cooking liquid reserved
About 1/2 cup Aïoli {here}
Seasoning the fish {for the best flavor, do this 4 to 12 hours in advance}:
Briefly rinse and then dry the monkfish fillets. Salt them lightly and evenly. Cover loosely and refrigerate.
Warm about 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the fennel and cook until slightly golden, about 3 minutes per side. Reduce the heat, add the onions, another tablespoon or two of oil, and a few pinches of salt, and cook gently for about 10 minutes, stirring and turning the pieces of fennel as needed. The salt, low flame, and stirring should coax the onions to “sweat” their water without browning.
Add the white wine and raise the heat to boil it briefly, then add the tomatoes, garlic, chili, saffron, and the pastis or ouzo, if using. Bring to a quiet simmer and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the fumet or chicken stock {or a combination of fumet or stock and reserved bean liquid} and another tablespoon of the olive oil. Add the beans and simmer briefly, then correct for salt and set aside.
Cooking the fish:
Preheat the broiler. Position the rack so it is about 6 inches from the element.
Pat the fish fillets dry. Warm about 1 tablespoon of the oil in a 10-inch skillet, nonstick if you have one, over medium heat. Arrange the pieces of monkfish in the oil; they should sizzle on contact. Don’t crowd the fish, or it will steam, but make sure that you don’t have too much empty pan space either~the oil will rapidly overheat in these spots. As long as the oil is hot enough and the fish is dry on the surface, it should not stick, even in a non-nonstick pan, but in any case, don’t fuss with it. Let the fish develop a pale golden crust before you try to turn it; this should take about 3 minutes. Then cook until golden on the second side.
When you finish searing the monkfish, nestle it in the pan of sauce. Set over medium-low heat and swirl as you bring to a simmer. Cook gently for about 6 minutes, until medium-rare.
Transfer to the broiler to finish cooking and brown the tips of the fish, fennel, and tomatoes, about 5 minutes. Look for the juices to begin caramelizing around the rim, but reduce the oven temperature if it looks as if the dish might burn. I sometimes assemble, finish, and serve the dish in a 2-inch deep, 4-quart ceramic baking dish or similar-sized copper roasting pan. I like to bring the whole dish, still bubbling, to the table. Offer the Aïoli on the side.
HOUSE-CURED SALT COD
ZUNI HAS ALWAYS HAD A SALT COD–LOVING CLIENTELE, AND MORE SO SINCE WE started salting fresh cod ourselves in 1993. Commercial salt cod wasn’t bad or unavailable, but in the spirit of “stop, think, there must be a harder way,” I figured starting from scratch might be more gratifying. It was, and it produces very succulent versions of traditional Mediterranean dishes~where pungent salt cod is most frequently served as a first course, and either pounded, fried, or otherwise affectionately manipulated. But home-cured cod is delicate enough to feature intact and in main-course portions. It is delicious broiled or poached, with Salsa Verde {here} or Preserved Lemon–Caper Butter {here}, or simmered in romesco {here} or briefly stewed with fennel, saffron, and white wine {here}.
This home-cured cod has none of the sinewy, oversalted sections you can count on with the commercial product, and it doesn’t have the musty smell or flavor that some boast, even after they are cooked. Salted raw cod is, however, pungent, and will announce its presence to everything else in the refrigerator. It is, frankly, “stinky” to anyone who doesn’t love it. We use dayboat hook-and-line-caught Atlantic cod, Gadus morhua. Its Pacific cousin, Gadus macrocephalus, is too soft to be a viable substitute. The confusingly named lingcod, rock cods, and black cod are not appropriate.
Salting the cod:
Buy skinned cod fillet, rinse it quickly under cold water, and press it gently between towels to wick out excess water. Pay attention to how soft the fish feels; this will be a reference point when you soak and rinse the fish. Weigh the fish, and season it with 1-1/2 tablespoons {3/4 ounce} salt per pound. Use an even hand over all at first, then go back and reseason the center section just a little more than the edges and tail end. If the center section is thicker than 1-1/2 inches, cut a 1/2-inch-deep slash in the thickest section to increase the surface area and ensure that the salt will reach and cure the whole mass rapidly and evenly.
Place the frosty-looking fillet flat on a stainless steel rack or shallow perforated pan and set this inside a larger, deeper pan to catch the drips. If that pan has a lid, use it; otherwise, loosely drape the assembly with plastic to protect from contamination, and contain odor, somewhat. The lid or plastic should not touch the fish.
Refrigerate and cure for up to 7 days. The fillet will get firmer as it dries out. You can desalt and cook the cod after as little as 24 hours, but it won’t start to acquire its distinctive character until it has cured for about 72 hours. In the interest of minimizing odor, you will probably want to rinse and dry the “drip pan” daily until the fillet stops dripping. The cod usually weeps a tablespoon or so of liquid per pound, most of it in the first 24 hours. If you are keeping the cod salted for longer than 5 days, you should lift out the fillet, rinse and dry the rack, and lightly resalt the cod, especially the underside if it feels humid. Flip the fillet over before you return it to the refrigerator.
Soaking the cod:
To desalt the cod, cut off the desired portion {if you are not using it all}, rinse it under cold water, and then soak it in fresh cold water, about 2 quarts per pound of fish. Refrigerate. Remember how firm the salted fillet felt before you rinsed it~once it is perfectly desalted, it will feel a little firmer than it did to start.
Desalting times will vary according to the dimensions of the piece of cod, the exact size of the water bath, the water temperature {the colder the water, the slower the process}, and how long the cod was salted. Pay attention to each of these things as you desalt the cod, so you can duplicate or modify them the next time you soak a batch.
If the cod was salted for only 24 hours, allow 4 to 8 hours to desalt it. For longer cures, allow 24 hours, stirring it in the soaking water once or twice. To determine whether the cod is purged enough, feel the fillet~it should feel softer and heavier than when you started to soak it~nearly as soft as the unsalted raw fish did. If you are becoming courageous, pinch off a bit of cod and taste it {see below}; spit it out if you wish~but not before you decide whether or not it is nicely seasoned. This will probably be a new experience, but don’t underestimate your ability to taste and judge correctly. Remember that the edge will be the least salty part of the slab you are desalting. Once the cod is desalted, pat dry and refrigerate until cooking, up to 6 hours.
Don’t try to rush the desalting process by washing the salt out under running water~you will wash out more than just salt. Cod rinsed this way will be deficient in the connective stuff and juices that make cooked salt cod dishes succulent.
ESQUIEXADA
If you try the raw cod and like the taste, consider making the delicacy esquiexada: torn bits of just-soaked cod, pressed dry, then moistened with extra-virgin olive oil and tossed with slivered raw onions and sweet peppers, maybe a few olives, vinegar, and, yes, salt to taste. Our house-cured cod produces an excellent version of this genial Catalan dish.
Wine: Dry Creek Vineyard Clarksburg Dry Chenin Blanc, 2000
SALT COD CARPACCIO
We serve never-soaked raw salt cod, sliced thin like smoked salmon, garnished with radish coins, slivered avocado, spicy garden cress {or chopped nasturtiums or arugula}, and drizzled with shallot vinaigrette. For this dish, use cod that has been salted for only 2 or 3 days.
Wine: Nautilus, Marlborough, New Zealand, Sauvignon Blanc, 2001
HOUSE SALT COD BRANDADE
I CAN’T RESIST INCLUDING THIS TRADITIONAL DISH OF SALT COD BEATEN WITH OLIVE oil, cream, and pounded garlic. Some brandade recipes call for boiled potato or bread crumbs~either to stretch a small amount of cod or tame the flavor~but I have abandoned both since we started using delicate, freshly salted cod. I recommend making brandade in the traditional way, pounded by hand with a pestle in a mortar. I use an inexpensive wooden salad bowl that I never use for salad, only as a mortar for brandade. If you are making a larger batch, it will be tempting to beat it with a paddle in an electric mixer, but you won’t get the same fluffy result that comes from smashing every flake of cod down to fibers.
Serve this delicacy warm on croûtons, to enjoy by themselves, with a salad, or with fried or poached eggs, or in broth. Or press 1/8-inch-thick slices of tomato onto thin slices of baguette, brush with oil, and bake until they are leathery crisp, then mound these with warm brandade. Or form cold brandade into 1-inch balls, roll them in beaten egg and fresh bread crumbs, and deep-fry them. These are good with Tomato Coulis {here} or with a frisée or arugula salad.
Wine: Mâcon-Lugny Les Charmes, 2000
FOR ABOUT 1 CUP:
2 to 3 garlic cloves, peeled
Salt
About 1 cup whole milk
About 1 cup water
1 pound House-Cured Salt Cod {here}{18 ounces fresh skinned cod fillet}, cut into 2 or 3 pieces, soaked for 4 to 24 hours, and drained
About 3 tablespoons heavy cream
About 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Cut the garlic into a few pieces, then put in a mortar and pound to a rough paste. Add a pinch or two of salt and pound until smooth. Scrape into a small bowl and set aside.
Place the milk and water in a 2-quart saucepan and bring to a simmer. Add the salt cod. The fish should be just submerged; if not, add a little more hot water. Adjust the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Simmer until the cod is just cooked through, about 5 minutes for a 1-inch-thick fillet. Don’t let the liquid boil, and don’t overcook the fish~both will damage the proteins that give the brandade body. You will sacrifice flavor too. Lift the cod from the poaching liquid {set it aside for now} and set to drain on a dry towel.
Heat the cream and oil separately until both are warm to the touch. Set aside.
As soon as the fish stops steaming, begin flaking it to make sure it is not under-cooked~if any flakes are translucent, return them to the simmering watery milk for a few seconds, and drain as before. You should get about 3/4 pound cooked cod.
Place the warm cod in a mortar or wooden bowl and pound and beat until nearly all of it is reduced to a fibrous pulp. The more thoroughly you smash the cod, the more cream and oil it will accept. Since house salted cod is tender compared to commercial product, you can leave some bits of cod intact for bursts of flavor, but most of the fish must be broken down to individual fibers to achieve the fluffy texture prized in brandade.
Still using the pestle, gradually work in the cream, oil, and garlic to taste, making a rich emulsion with the pounded fish. Taste for salt. If not serving immediately, hold in a double boiler, or rewarm in a small, nonstick pan, or on croûtons under the broiler.
HOUSE SALT COD CHOWDER with FENNEL, SAFFRON, ONIONS, & CRACKER BREAD
REMINISCENT OF THOSE TRADITIONAL CHOWDERS WHERE DRY CRACKERS THICKENED and gave bulk to a broth meager in fish or fresh vegetables. This is fun to assemble, it is cooked almost as soon as it simmers, and it has a wonderful texture. I flavor this chowder with sprigs of wild fennel gone to seed that grows around the Bay Area; you can substitute a few crushed fennel seeds plus some of the feathery fronds from the fennel bulb.
Wine: Crozes-Hermitage Blanc, La Mule, Paul Jaboulet Aîné, 2000
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
1-1/4 pounds House-Cured Salt Cod {here}{1-1/2 pounds skinned fresh cod fillet}, soaked {see here} and drained
1 large or 2 medium fennel bulbs, trimmed {about 12 ounces total}, a few sprigs of feathery frond reserved and chopped if using fennel seeds
A pinch of saffron threads
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
8 ounces sliced yellow onions {2 cups, about 1 medium onion}
Salt
A few garlic cloves, slivered
1/2 cup diced or sliced leeks {including a little of the green part}
A few sprigs of wild fennel flower that has gone to seed or a few fennel seeds, crushed
About 2 ounces plain cracker bread
1/4 cup dry white wine
3/4 to 1 cup Chicken Stock {here}, warmed, or lightly salted warm water
1/4 cup Aïoli {here} {optional}
Slice the salt cod on an angle into 1-1/2-inch-thick slabs.
Cut the fennel bulb into wedges about 3/4 inch thick. Bring about 3 quarts unsalted water to a simmer, add the fennel, and cook until al dente. Drain, cool in ice water, drain again promptly, and spread on a towel.
Place the saffron in a 3-quart sauté pan or 12-inch skillet over medium-low heat. When the bottom of the pot is just too hot to touch, add about 1/3 cup of the olive oil and swirl the pan. The saffron will “bloom” in the oil. Add the sliced onions and a few pinches of salt and stir. Cook covered, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucent and just soft, about 15 minutes. Add the leeks, garlic, and a little more olive oil to coat and cook another few minutes uncovered. Turn off the heat.
Nestle the cod and fennel wedges evenly in the bed of onions. Tuck in the cracker bread, distributing it evenly as well. Scatter the wild fennel or fennel seeds plus chopped fennel frond over all, then moisten with the wine and enough warm chicken stock or salted warm water, to not quite cover the fish and vegetables. Bring slowly to a simmer, swirling the pan occasionally to encourage mingling of flavors. Taste for salt. Simmer for about 2 minutes. Turn off the heat, cover, and leave for about 1 minute, to let the fish finish cooking and the cracker bread swell.
Spoon out the tender cod, then distribute the vegetables, velvety bread, and juices. Offer the optional Aïoli on the side.
SHRIMP COOKED in ROMESCO with WILTED SPINACH
IN TARRAGONA, ON THE CATALONIAN COAST, WHERE ROMESCO IS TRADITIONAL, the word refers to the sauce base, the chili pepper used to make it, and the finished dish it defines, and when there’s enough of it, it seems to become a romescada.
The romesco sauce base is a bit labor-intensive, but it is versatile, keeps well, and improves as the flavors mingle, so we always make a large amount and use it with different seafood over the course of a week. This shrimp dish is the easiest of our romesco dishes, but it is nearly as easy to steam open and then simmer mussels or clams in romesco. Or you can cook medallions of halibut, monkfish, or House-Cured Salt Cod {here} in the sauce. Or make a delicious event of combining a few kinds of fish and shellfish. Regarding ingredients: I encourage you to avoid farmed shrimp. Buy American-caught wild shrimp at specialty fish markets~all of which, by law, ought to be “turtle-safe” {meaning the traps exclude sea turtles}. {A similar system that permits shrimpers to avoid destroying massive numbers of juvenile fish has also been mandated by federal law, although its use is not yet well enforced.} Asking for and paying a little more for these sustainably harvested shrimp is a good way to encourage responsible shrimping.
I like to cook the shrimp in their shells, but you can also prepare this dish with peeled and deveined shrimp. {If you are doing the peeling, you may want to turn the shells into a little fumet to flavor the sauce. Allow about an hour to do this.}
As for the sauce, ancho chilis are a good substitute for the romesco pepper, which so far remains elusive on my coast. We use a high-acid, oaky Spanish red wine vinegar from l’Estornel, which imparts a distinct character to the sauce. We also use Spanish paprika, although Hungarian products will do as well~in either case, make sure it is pungent and fresh. Buy all ground spices in quantities that you will exhaust promptly.
Wine: St. Amant Amador Roussanne, 1999
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
For the romesco base {makes 1 generous cup}:
1/2 ounce raw almonds {about 2 tablespoons, or 12 nuts}
1 ounce hazelnuts {1/4 cup, or about 32 nuts}
1/2 cup coarsely chopped drained canned tomatoes or peeled ripe tomatoes
About 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 ancho chili
About 1 cup mild-tasting olive oil
1-1/2 ounces chewy, white, peasant-style bread {about 1 thick slice}
2 to 3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 teaspoon l’Estornel brand red wine vinegar {see Sources and Resources, here} or other red wine vinegar fortified with a few drops of sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon hot paprika
1/2 teaspoon mild paprika
Salt
To finish the dish:
1 cup Chicken Stock {here}, Shellfish Fumet {here}, water, or a combination
3 tablespoons dry white wine
1/2 cup diced yellow onions {2 ounces}
About 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
About 1-1/4 pounds shrimp in their shells or just over 1 pound peeled shrimp
3/4 pound spinach, carefully washed and dried
Making the romesco base {up to a week in advance}:
Preheat the oven to 325°.
Drop the almonds into a small pot of boiling water and leave for about 10 seconds. Drain, slide off the skins, and rub dry. Set aside.
Roast the hazelnuts on a small baking sheet until the skins darken and start to split, 10 to 15 minutes. While they are still hot, bundle them in a towel beanbag-style, then scrunch and massage them to rub off most of their skins. Pick out the nuts and set aside.
Turn the oven to broil. Spread the tomatoes 1/2 inch thick in a small, shallow baking dish. Trickle with a little of the olive oil and place under the broiler about 4 inches from the element. Cook until the tomatoes char slightly and bubble, a few minutes. Remove from the broiler.
Reduce the oven temperature to 425°.
Meanwhile, pour a few cups of boiling water over the chili and leave to swell for a few minutes. Drain, then stem and seed the pepper.
Pour mild-tasting olive oil to a depth of 1/2 inch into an 8- or 10-inch skillet and set over medium-low heat. Test the temperature with the edge of the slice of bread; when it barely sizzles on contact, reduce the heat slightly and add the bread. {You may need to cut the bread into pieces so it fits into the pan in a single layer.} Check the underside at 1 minute; it should just be beginning to color. Fry until it is the color of cornflakes 2 to 3 minutes per side. Drain and cool on a paper towel.
Thickly slice the garlic, then pound to a paste in a mortar. Scrape into a processor and add the chili, fried bread, almonds, and hazelnuts. Grind to a fine, moist paste, scraping the sides frequently. Scrape in the tomato and process to a paste. Add the vinegar, paprika, the remaining extra-virgin oil and salt to taste. Taste; it should be bursting with flavor, although not overly spicy. The flavor of the paprika will come out over time.
Spread the paste in a thick layer in a small shallow baking dish and bake until the surface has turned dark orange with occasional flecks of brown, about 8 minutes.
Finishing the dish:
Bring the stock, fumet, or water and the white wine to a simmer in a small saucepan. Turn off the heat and stir in the romesco base. Taste for salt. Cover and set aside for about 30 minutes. As this brew cools, the crumbs will begin to swell and soften, which will give the sauce a nice texture.
Place the diced onions in a 3-quart sauté pan with about 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and a few pinches of salt. Cook over medium heat until translucent and tender, about 5 minutes. Add the romesco and warm through. Add the shrimp and turn the heat to medium. Cook gently, turning each one over once in the thickening sauce, until the shrimp are just firm and opaque. This should take no longer than 4 minutes, but depends on the size of the shrimp.
Meanwhile, warm another 2 tablespoons olive oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the spinach and sprinkle with salt. Gently turn and fold leaves until they are uniformly wilted and bright green. Taste for salt and add another trickle of oil if the spinach seems lean.
Divide the spinach among warm plates. Arrange the shrimp on top of the spinach. Taste the sauce, and correct the salt. The romesco should be fluid but thick~reduce briefly or add a splash of water if it seems either watery or pasty. Spoon the sauce over all.
SPICY SQUID STEW with RED WINE & ROASTED PEPPERS
HERE IS A DISH TO CHALLENGE THE DOGMA THAT THE BEST COOKING LETS ingredients and flavors sing clearly in the finished dish {or only nudges them into harmony}. In this recipe, you radically change the character, flavor, look, and texture of every ingredient~and the murky, complicated result is delicious. We make many variations on this recipe, adding diced fennel or leeks to the vegetable mix, or finishing the stew with a spoonful of cooked lentils, charred cherry tomatoes, or coarsely chopped blanched chard leaves.
Squid stew makes a great first or main course, followed by a roasted bird or grilled lamb chops with salad on the side. A few spoonfuls of leftover stew make a great crostini topping.
Wine: Quivira Dry Creek Cuvée, 1999
FOR 4 TO 6 SERVINGS:
2-1/4 pounds whole squid
About 6 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
Salt
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons red wine
3/4 cup chopped drained canned tomatoes or 1-1/2 cups chopped peeled ripe tomatoes
3/4 cup diced carrots {3 ounces}
3/4 cup diced celery {3 ounces}
3/4 cup diced yellow onions {3 ounces}
1 or 2 small dried chiles
3 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped, plus 1 clove, peeled, to rub the toasts
2-1/2 teaspoons tomato paste
A branch of fresh basil
A few wide strips of orange zest {removed with a vegetable peeler}
2/3 cup peeled roasted red or green bell pepper {about 8 ounces raw pepper, 1 medium}, cut into large dice, with its juice {see here}
4 to 6 thick slices of chewy, peasant-style bread
Begin to clean the squid by pulling out the tentacles as you grasp the body with the other hand. Look in the soft matter attached to the tentacles for the silver ink sac~it looks like a drop of mercury. Carefully transfer it to a small cup. Trim away the soft matter, cutting between the eyes and the “neck” of the tentacles. Squeeze the neck; a hard pea-sized “beak” should pop it out. Discard it. Set the tentacles aside. To clean the bodies, starting at the closed tip of each, use your finger or the dull edge of a knife to gradually press and flatten the body, forcing out the insides. {Imagine you are flattening a toothpaste tube.} Cut the bodies into 1/3-inch rings. Rinse and drain the bodies and tentacles. You should have about 1-1/2 pounds cleaned squid.
Warm a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a 10-inch skillet over medium heat. Test with a piece of squid; when the oil sizzles on contact, add about half of the squid and cook briskly for about 45 seconds, stirring or tossing to cook evenly. Season lightly with salt, then tip the barely cooked meat into a 4-quart saucepan. Add another tablespoon or two of oil to the skillet and cook the rest of the squid.
Pour the red wine into the skillet to deglaze the squid juices, and stir and scrape as the liquid reduces by one-third. Add the tomatoes. If using canned tomatoes, simply heat through; if using fresh tomatoes, simmer to reduce by about half. Pour the mixture over the squid. It should be about half submerged in liquid.
Add the remaining 2 to 4 tablespoons olive oil, the carrots, celery, onions, chilis, chopped garlic, and tomato paste. Pick the leaves off the branch of basil and set them aside. Drop the stems into the stew. Twist and drop the strips of orange zest into the pan. Place the ink sacs in a fine strainer, hold over the stew, and bathe with a few spoonfuls of the red wine and juices, pressing to extract the ink. Stir it into the darkening stew. Cover and simmer gently for about 20 minutes. The squid and vegetables will now be nearly submerged in liquid. The squid will be shrunken and may be disturbingly hard.
Taste for salt and add the roasted peppers and their juice. Simmer uncovered until the squid becomes just tender. How long this takes varies enormously, depending on the squid, the pan, and the burner; allow 10 to 30 minutes. Check again for salt, and spiciness~if the stew is too mild for your taste, fish out the chili pods, crush them with a little of the liquid in a small dish, and add a little, or all, of this super-spicy dose to the pot. Otherwise, remove the chilis and the basil stems and cool the stew completely. Cooling and then reheating the stew makes the squid more tender.
To serve, reheat gently, adding the reserved basil leaves as the stew comes to a simmer. Taste. The finished stew should be rich and slightly thick. Offer toasted or grilled bread rubbed with the garlic.
SAUTÉING
TO SAUTE MEANS, LITERALLY, TO MAKE SOMETHING JUMP. In the kitchen, this is usually hot food in a pan, although the technique is useful for tossing food in a wide bowl as well. When we sauté, we set the food into motion, thrusting the pan {or bowl} forward and then, with a short, firm tug, pulling the pan back, using the edge of the vessel to change the direction or merely break the momentum of its contents. Depending on the tilt of the pan, and the force of the tug, sautéing can allow the cook to gently and efficiently flip or fold masses of ingredients onto themselves without using a utensil {which is less efficient and, to some degree, distresses the food}. It is a fun skill to master. Learning can be messy, with hot food and fat jumping to the floor or stovetop, but you can practice with a few handfuls of dried beans in a cold pan. They slide easily, and you can make them jump, or roll over, with a fairly slow push-then-pull motion that is easy to get the knack of. Add more beans, and you will get a feel for how to adjust your motion as the weight and volume increases. It will be easier to control the larger quantity of beans. I prefer to sauté in a skillet rather than what is classically called a sauté pan; the straight-sided sauté pan thwarts the “jump” so soon that it is hard to get much food flipped over. A curved pan encourages movement.