make do and fend

I often have the best of intentions.

As in, to pick up a recipe, fol­low the direc­tions, behave myself in the kitchen.

And then real life takes over. Such was my expe­ri­ence today. I found myself inspired by my friend Edward’s most recent blog post to try a recipe by his beloved Aus­tralian trans­plant chef Skye (seri­ous­ly) Gyn­gell. She is seri­ous, by the way, very much so, in fact in a way that nor­mal­ly irri­tates me a tiny bit, so per­fect is she. I con­fess that as a non-chef but pret­ty devot­ed home cook, I am attract­ed to very tol­er­ant, relaxed cooks and real­ly read seri­ous chefs only for fun. But because I respect Edward I decid­ed to give it a try. And, hand over heart, I real­ly did. Try.

It was so sim­ple! Grilled sea bass with a sauce called salmoriglio, which for some rea­son all day long I could not spell prop­er­ly for more than nine­ty sec­onds at a time. Nor­mal­ly I am quite a nat­ur­al speller, but this one stymied me. At any rate, recipe in hand, there I was at my super­mar­ket look­ing for the sim­plest of things: fresh oregano. Or even mar­jo­ram, the recipe assured me. Well. No go.

I con­tem­plat­ed a wild run to Wait­rose in West­field and then checked myself: no time. So I turned off my recipe but­ton and turned on the com­mon sense one, and it was but the work of a moment to think, sal­sa verde. As in, quite sim­ply, green sauce: skip the pos­si­ble capers, no vine­gar, but GREEN SAUCE. There was a pathet­ic bush of basil. No thank you. What there WAS, in lus­cious green pro­fu­sion, were flat-leaf pars­ley and corian­der. That would work for me, espe­cial­ly with sea bass. So off I went.

And it was mar­vel­lous. The old­er I get and the more evenings my fam­i­ly troop hope­ful­ly into the kitchen at 7:30 sharp expect­ing some­thing to get them through the night and the fol­low­ing day, the less I fol­low the rules. Needs must, in wartime.

Skye Gyn­gel­l’s Grilled Sea Bass (yes, but a la my instructions),with Samor­iglio (well…)
(serves 4)

2 sea bass, fil­let­ed and cleaned by some­one oth­er than me, into 4 fillets
1 tbsp olive oil
sea salt and pepper
4 small cloves gar­lic, peeled
pinch dried chilli flakes
1/2 large bunch each (per­haps 12 stems each, but only LEAVES) flat leaf pars­ley, corian­der (cilantro in America)
220g olive oil
juice of 1/2 lemon

Please don’t sub­ject your fish fil­lets to a grill at fridge temp. It’s shock­ing. Let it rest for a bit on a clean plate as you do every­thing else. Paint it with olive oil and sprin­kle with salt and pep­per and leave it.

In a mor­tar and pes­tle or frankly a food proces­sor, mash up the gar­lic, chilli flakes, then the pars­ley and corian­der. Blend in the olive oil, and leave the lemon juice until you are JUST ready to serve, then blend it in.

Under a hot oven grill, just two inch­es or so below the ele­ments, grill the sea bass fil­lets skin side up for 5 min­utes. Put on your exhaust fan so your cats and neigh­bors are not undu­ly upset by the smoke alarm in your kitchen (I speak from expe­ri­ence, about three hours ago). Watch the fish close­ly and take out just as it is browned.

Serve with the sauce driz­zled over top. We found that a side sal­ad of toma­toes and moz­zarel­la with chilli oil and chives sat right, plus sauteed ten­der­stem broc­coli. Lovely.

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My point is, don’t be dis­cour­aged if your purist inten­tions are thwart­ed. The point is to feed the peo­ple around you some­thing mind-bend­ing­ly tasty, nutri­tious, a lit­tle lux­u­ri­ous, a lit­tle rebel­lious if you can’t get exact­ly what you thought you need­ed. Give your­self a break and enjoy your job: pro­vid­ing sus­te­nance day in and day out.

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