Leaping Poached Trout with Cucumber Scales

This lovely and most delicate dish, a retrolicious reminder of decades gone past, makes a show-stopping centrepiece for a cold buffet. It may look finicky, and I admit that it takes some time to prepare, but it's a lot easier to make than it looks, and once the applause from your guests dies down you will resolve to make this for every future special occasion.

A show-stopper of a buffet dish, and very easy to make, if you have
 time and patience. Platter by David Walters

There are only two things that might present a challenge to you. One: you need to lay your hands on a very fresh, very beautiful whole trout or, failing that, a whole salmon of similar spanking freshness. Two: you will need a mandolin or a similar slicing device to cut paper-thin, even slices of cucumber. With a lot of patience and perseverance you could, I suppose, cut these using a very sharp knife, but I definitely wouldn't attempt this without the aid of a mandolin.

I bought this beautiful trout from the Salmon Bar in Franschhoek, a restaurant that stocks as a sideline a range of locally produced smoked fish and charcuterie. I hadn't meant to buy a fish, but I popped into the restaurant to buy some of their warm bread while I was staying with my mum over Christmas, and there on the shelves was a gleaming stack of trout so fresh they were practically still flapping. I presume that this beauty came from the esteemed Three Streams Smokehouse, famed for its superlative, sustainable smoked trout, reared in the Lesotho highlands, but as you are unlikely to find their fish outside of the Western Cape I suggest you ask your fishmonger to order you a top quality trout or - at great expense to yourself - a whole salmon from Norway or Scotland.

Another minor aggravation may be finding agar agar (also known as isinglass), a seaweed-based gelling agent.  I buy mine from my favourite spice shop where it is sold as 'China Grass'; you should be able to find it at a good speciality deli.  If you can't find it, you can use ordinary powdered gelatine, in exactly the same quantity given in my recipe below.

Carefully press the wafer-thin cucumber slices onto the surface
of the poached trout. 

Start this recipe the day before, and you cannot go wrong.  And when your guests are finished tucking into the beautifully tender coral-pink flakes of fish, tip any leftovers into a lidded container and use them the next day to make a delicate fish pâté (see Cook's Notes at the end of this post).

I have put the word 'leaping' in the title of this recipe because the finished fish looks as if it is jumping upstream over rock and boulder.  (There is no artistic intent. The truth is that I don't have a fish kettle, and couldn't find a roasting dish big enough to accommodate it. So I firmly pressed the fish into a tight curve in a big ceramic lasagne dish, and I suggest you do the same with whatever suitable dish you have to hand.)

I served this with thick home-made mayonnaise flavoured with horseradish, a jab of good Dijon mustard and  a whisper of garlic, but I would have used fresh dill to flavour the mayo if I'd been able to find it.


Leaping Poached Trout with Cucumber Scales

a large fresh whole trout or salmon (mine was 1.6 kg)
a thin slice of lemon, skin on
2 leeks washed, trimmed and thickly sliced, or a few slices of onion
a few stalks of parsley or celery, or both
10 whole peppercorns, or 10 generous grindings of black pepper
½ cup (125 ml) dry white wine
a big pinch of salt
water
1 tsp (5 ml) agar-agar, or powdered gelatine
a little lemon juice (see recipe)
a whole English cucumber, washed

Heat the oven to 160 ºC. Wipe and scale the fish, but don't trim it or remove fins, head or tail. Lightly oil a large, high-sided roasting pan or rectangular ceramic lasagne dish, and lay the fish in it, as described above.  Add the lemon slice, leeks (or onion), parsley, celery, peppercorns, wine and salt.  Now pour in just enough cold water to bring the level of liquid in the pan to 15 mm (1.5 cm) deep.  Tightly cover the whole tray or pan with two layers of heavy-duty tin foil and place it in the oven.  Cook the fish until it is just cooked through to the bone.

(How long this will take depends on the size and shape of your fish, and you will need to use your instincts here.  Open the oven after about 30 minutes and place your fingertips on the foil. It should be exceedingly hot to the touch, and the flesh should willingly yield when you press down on it.  If you're not certain that the fish is cooked, peel away the tin foil and gently lift away the skin -  starting at the belly -  from the thickest part of the fish.  Gently push the tines of a fork into the fish: if it is beginning to fall into flakes, and has loosened from the back bone, it's ready.)

Take the dish out of the oven and leave it to cool, still covered with tin foil, for 30 minutes.  Remove the tin foil and very carefully peel the skin off the top of the fish, starting by making a cut just above the tail.  It will peel off easily, although you might need to use the tip of a sharp knife to ease it free along the length of the top edge of the fish.  Cut the skin neatly away just above the gills. You must do this while the fish is still slightly warm, or you won't be able to get the skin off in one go.  Now very gently slide a metal spatula under the fish to detach any skin that is sticking to the bottom of the pan.  Using a large spoon, drizzle the warm poaching liquid all over the exposed fish flesh.  Cover with foil again and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, use a soup ladle to spoon the cooking liquid - which will have jellied slightly, if you are lucky - into a saucepan.  Discard the flavourings.  Warm the stock over a gentle heat until it is just liquid, then measure out one cup (250 ml) into a small bowl. Sprinkle over 1 tsp (5 ml) of agar agar (or gelatine) and set aside for 10 minutes.

In the meantime, trim the fish.  Neatly slice away any brown or fatty bits along the belly line of the fish, and gently pull off all the fins. Now lift the whole fish out of its pan and put it onto a large platter. You will probably need an extra pair of hands and several spatulas to do this.  If you'd like to take the skin off the bottom of the fish, you can do this by very gently sliding a metal spatula between the flesh and the skin, and then loosening it and pulling it away, as if you are whipping out a sheet out from under a duvet!

Set the stock/agar agar mixture over a gentle heat and bring to the boil. Turn down the heat and simmer for 10 minutes, skimming off any foam as it rises. If you are using gelatine, gently warm the mixture until the gelatine has melted and the liquid is clear.  Strain the liquid through a sieve lined with a close-woven clean material, such as a laundered napkin or a brand-new kitchen cloth.

Taste the strained liquid, and adjust the seasoning by adding a few drops of lemon juice to sharpen it up, plus some salt and pepper if necessary. Set aside to cool (see below).

Cut the cucumber into very fine slices using a mandolin or similar device. The slices should be transluscent and so thin they are floppy, or they will not bend neatly to the shape of the fish.  Starting with the smallest slices from the thinnest end of the cucumber, and at the tail-end of the trout, neatly press the 'scales' in overlapping rows onto the surface of the fish.  The cucumber slices will adhere easily, and your only challenge will be to place them evenly and neatly across the curved surface, starting at the spine edge and end at the belly, and adding extra slices to each row as you progress from thinner tail end to the thicker middle portion.

Paint the lukewarm gel all over the 'scales', using a pastry brush. 

When you've covered the whole fish with cucumber scales, use a pastry brush to paint the luke-warm stock mixture all over the 'scales', head and tail of the fish.  The liquid - if you have used agar agar - must be runny and warm when you paint it on, or it will congeal into cloudy globules.  You'll find that it sets quickly into a shining gel as you paint it over the surface of the cucumber slices.  If it has started to set, reheat it very gently on the hob, or until liquefies.

Once the whole fish is neatly coated with its glaze, place it in the fridge to chill.  If you think your guests might be frightened by the popping eyeball of the fish, scoop it out and replace it with half a pimento-stuffed green olive.

To serve, take the whole fish to the table with a bowl of mayonnaise.  Slide a metal spatula between the top fillet and the backbone of the fish and lift  out the top fillet.  Pull the flesh into big chevrons and invite everyone to tuck in. Do warn them of bones, however.

Cook's Notes

To make a trout pâté with the leftovers: flake the fish and, using your fingertips, painstakingly sift through the pieces to remove any small bones.  Place the fish in a large bowl and, to every cup of flakes, add 2 Tbsp (30 ml) softened butter, 2 Tbsp (30 ml) cream, sour cream or crème fraîche and ½ tsp (2.5 ml) of finely grated lemon rind.  Beat until soft and combined (or blitz in a food processor) and season to taste with salt and pepper.  Serve with hot toast.

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Old-fashioned Potted Salmon (or Trout) with Mace and Cayenne Pepper

Old-fashioned Potted Salmon (or Trout) with Mace and Cayenne Pepper

One of the only disadvantages, I reckon, of living on the southern tip of Africa is that salmon don't live here too. We can buy salmon flown in from northern waters, but it's eye-poppingly expensive and often not that good, unless it's very wild or very fresh.

I'd rather spend my pennies on the high-quality trout that's now quite extensively (and substainably) farmed in South Africa.

I've mentioned Franschhoek company Three Streams's superlative trout before on this blog (here, here and here) and I've used it instead of salmon in this very old recipe. This will, of course, work perfectly well with ordinary salmon.

In this recipe, I've used a whole fillet of still-raw, delicately smoked trout (available, in South Africa, at Woolworths). Because it's already lightly smoked, it takes only five minutes to poach, but if you're using ordinary salmon, you may need to leave it in its cooking liquor a little longer.

This recipe (see original, left) dates from 1795, but is doubtless a lot older, as English cookery has a long tradition of potting meats and fish.

The recipe comes from a book called The New Experienced English Housekeeper  by Mrs Sarah Martin, which is available online at Google Books. In her admirably clear and simple instructions, Mrs Martin calls for an ingredient called 'chyan'. This had me scratching my head for many hours, and even a concerted search of Google didn't throw out the answer. After hunting through some other recipe books of the period, I eventually realised that she meant 'cheyenne' pepper: in other words, cayenne pepper.

At the end of this post you will find a slightly more complicated recipe for potted salmon - one I haven't yet tried -  which comes from the The Experienced English Housekeeper by Elizabeth Raffald (1786).

I was a little doubtful at first that smoked fish would taste good without a hint of lemon or any other sort of acidity, but once I'd tried this dish, I was quite smitten by the combination of lightly smoked fish, ground mace and cayenne. This is very good spread on slices of very hot buttered toast. (Have I mentioned that you can make excellent hot, golden toast using a sandwich press and thinly cut day-old baguettes?)

You can clarify the butter, if you have the time and energy, but this really isn't necessary if you're going to serve this within a day or two.

Mace (the hard filigreed case that encloses a whole nutmeg) isn't a spice that's seen in supermarkets these days, but it's well worth hunting down. I buy it whole from Indian spice shops and grind it to a powder using a mortar and pestle. If you can't find mace, very finely grated whole nutmeg will do, but use it sparingly.

I can't give you exact ingredients here: my advice is to add the spices a pinch at a time, and taste the mixture as you go along. You probably won't need to add extra salt to this dish, as I've specified salted butter. If you must use pepper (which I don't think is necessary), use white pepper.


Old-fashioned Potted Salmon (or Trout) with Mace and Cayenne Pepper

To poach the fish:
a large fillet of lightly smoked trout, or a nice fillet of raw salmon
2 bay leaves
a thin slice of lemon, peel on
6 black peppercorns, lightly crushed
a large sprig of fresh thyme
a pinch of salt
hot water to cover

To pot:
salted butter
freshly ground mace
cayenne pepper
bay leaves and sprigs of fresh thyme

Pull the skin off the fish and remove any bones.  Put the fish into a large pan and add the bay leaves, lemon slice, peppercorns and thyme. Add just enough hot water to the pan to cover the fish. Turn the heat on under the pan and poach very gently, in barely bubbling water, for 5 to 10 minutes (see my notes above), or until the fish is just cooked through, and beginning to fall into tender flakes on the outside. Don't allow the water to boil vigorously. Remove the fish from the liquid using a slotted spoon, cover and set aside to cool for a few minutes. Don't discard the cooking liquid.

Melt a slab (about 100 g, or one-fifth of a block of butter) in  your microwave oven, or in a small pan set over a medium heat.

Using your fingers, pull the warm salmon into big flakes and place on a plate or chopping board. Add the mace and cayenne pepper, one pinch at a time, and mix gently together using your fingertips. Taste as you go along. When the fish is seasoned to your taste, pack it lightly into a flattish dish (or several small ramekins) and moisten with a teaspoon or two of the liquid in which you cooked the fish. Pour the warm melted butter over the fish flakes, prodding the mixture gently with a fork so that the butter fills all the gaps. The butter layer should cover the fish to a depth of one millimetre. Press a fresh thyme sprig and bay leaf onto the top of each dish, and sprinkle with extra cayenne pepper. Refrigerate.

Take the dish out of the fridge an hour or so before you serve it, so the mixture can be easily spread.

Serve with hot buttered toast and a scattering of capers.



 Image above from The Experienced English Housekeeper by Elizabeth Raffald (1786). Print Friendly

Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes

I was going to describe these fish cakes as 'dainty', but it's a word I don't much like, so I've settled for 'delicate'.  The word 'double' in the title of this recipe refers to the fact that these cakes contain fresh salmon and smoked salmon (actually, smoked salmon-trout, but more about that later).

Bowl by David Walters

This recipe is my attempt to reproduce some little fish cakes - not only dainty and delicate, but also quite divine  - that I tasted recently at The Common Room, a newish restaurant in Franschhoek operated by Susan Huxter of Franschhoek's esteemed Le Quartier Francais group, with a menu designed by the talented Margot Janse.

I've seen this restaurant described in reviews as a 'tapas' restaurant, but this term really doesn't do justice to the swooningly delicious dishes on The Common Room's ever-changing menu. Okay, the menu format is similar to that of a tapas bar ( in that the portions are snack-sized appetizers) but the quality of the ingredients, the refined presentation and the deliciousness of the food are several stratospheres above what you might expect in the average tapas bar.

Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes

My mother, who took me out for this meal, warned me that the food was good, but I didn't expect my socks to be thoroughly knocked off (and I'm still hunting for them in the vicinity of the Great Grey-Green Greasy Limpopo, so far were they blasted). Every dish was a little gem; every mouthful a sensation.  As a person who is sent into agonies of indecision when choosing from a menu (I always choose something that isn't as nice as everyone else's, and have severe attacks of menu envy) I loved the fact that I could order a whole range of dishes and taste a bit of everything.

My mum and I shared six dishes, which filled us to the brim. I won't describe them to you - this isn't a restaurant blog - but if you ever go to The Common Room, please try the confit duck (served in a small jar, with apricot mebos 'marmalade').

The food is pleasingly affordable, with the average price of each dish hovering between R20 and R35.

But back to the fish cakes. What I loved about The Common Room's cakes is that they tasted of pure salmon. Not dill, not parsley, not chives, not onion, not potato, nor any of the delicious ingredients you'd commonly expect to find in a good fishcake. I asked the waiter what was in them, and he came back to report that they contained onion, potato, fresh salmon and smoked salmon. I think - although I can't be sure - that the 'smoked salmon' used in the cakes was a superlative locally produced smoked salmon trout from Three Streams Smokehouse.

These fish cakes were served with a 'deconstructed' tartar sauce - all the usual ingredients, but left in bigger pieces and attractively strewn on the plate, with dabs of olive oil and mayo - but I think they're good enough  on their own, perhaps with with a squeeze of lemon juice. And were mine as good as the originals? Of course not. But close.

Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes

300 g fillet of fresh salmon, skinned and boned
½ cup (125 ml) white wine
two small sprigs of thyme
a bay leaf
a thumb-length strip of lemon peel
flaky sea salt
milled black pepper
water to cover
200 g smoked salmon or salmon trout
1 cup (250 ml) very finely chopped fresh leeks, white parts only (about three medium leeks)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) butter
1 tsp (5 ml) finely grated fresh lemon zest
one large free-range egg, lightly beaten
flaky sea salt and milled black pepper
sunflower oil for frying

For the mashed potatoes:
3 large potatoes (enough to make a cup and a half of mash)
salt
2 Tbsp (30 ml) butter
a little hot milk

To coat:
½ cup (125 ml) flour
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup (250 ml) fresh breadcrumbs

First make the mashed potatoes. Halve the potatoes and put them in a pot of cold water, with a big pinch of salt. Turn on the heat, bring to the boil and simmer for 30 minutes, or until they are quite tender. Drain in a colander until cool enough to handle. Slip the peels off the potatoes and place them back in the pan. Add the butter and hot milk and mash until smooth and fluffy. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and set aside.

Put the salmon in a pan just wide enough to contain the whole piece. Add the white wine, one thyme sprig, the bay leaf, lemon peel and a generous pinch of sea salt. Now add just enough water to cover the salmon. Set the timer on your stove to 9 minutes, turn the heat on under the pan and bring gently up to just below boiling point. Now cover the pot and simmer for 9 minutes.  Remove the lid and, using the tip of a knife, poke a small hole through the salmon. If it's still raw on the inside, poach it for another few minutes, or until it is just done.   (How long this takes will depend on the thickness of your salmon piece; the important thing is that you don't allow the water to boil.)

Form the fish mixture into little cakes.

While the salmon is poaching, cut the smoked salmon crossways into shreds about 3 mm wide, and set aside. Remove the fish from the pan with a slotted spoon and set aside to cool slightly. Discard the cooking liquor (or save for a fish stock).

Rinse and dry the pan in which you cooked the salmon. Turn on the heat and add the butter. When the butter has stopped foaming, tip in the chopped leeks and the remaining thyme sprig. Turn the heat right down to its lowest setting and cover the leeks with a circle of greaseproof paper (or cover with the lid of the pot). Gently stew the leeks and butter, without allowing the leeks to brown, for about 10 minutes, or until the leeks are soft. Discard the thyme sprig.

Pull the cooked salmon into flakes the size of your thumbnail and place in a large mixing bowl. Measure out a cup and a half of mashed potato, and add this to the mixing bowl, along with the smoked salmon shreds, the leek/butter mixture, the lemon zest and the beaten egg. Stir thoroughly to combine. Season the mixture with more salt and pepper, if necessary. Place the mixture in the fridge for 30 minutes to an hour, so it can firm up.

Now prepare the coating. Place the flour on one large plate, the beaten eggs on another, and the breadcrumbs on the third plate. Remove the fish mixture from the fridge. Pinch off pieces of the mixture (each about the size of a large litchi) and roll them between your palms to create little balls. Flatten each ball into a disk about 10 mm thick. Coat each disk in the flour and shake to remove the excess. Dip the disks in egg yolk, then in the bread crumbs, patting down gently so that the breadcrumbs stick. Arrange the fish cakes on a large platter or tray.

At this point, you can put the fishcakes aside, or refrigerate them for up to 8 hours. (If you are going to put them in the fridge, keep them uncovered, as this will allow the crumbs to dry out).

To cook the fish cakes, pour enough sunflower oil into a large non-stick frying pan to coat it to a depth of 1 mm. Heat the oil over a medium flame. When the oil is hot, but not smoking, add the fishcakes and fry them on both sides until golden brown and crispy. These cakes brown very quickly, so don't allow the oil to overheat: if the oil is too hot, you'll end up with a dark-brown crumb coating and a cold centre.

Drain the fishcakes on a paper towel. Serve immediatley, with lemon wedges and salt.


Serves 4-6 as a snack

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