No. 11: A Love of the Sea
Kelpy snacks, a Portugal cannery visit and springtime on a sheet pan
It was not a new revelation recently that being on or near the sea makes me feel profoundly content and revived. Our vacation last month on a Viking cruise from Barcelona to Bergen did, however, give me ample opportunity to be reminded of just how much pleasure I get from being on the sea. Pleasure that ranges from a bracing-brisk early morning stroll on the upper deck to the calming serenity of watching the sun slip into the watery horizon. Cloudless skies are no match for the added texture and color that clouds add to the mix. Pretty much without fail, I was on deck at sunset, as well as some sunrises and catching various phases of the moon, too. I couldn’t get enough of being somewhere outside to take it all in.
Earlier this month, I had another sea-oriented trip, this one much closer to home and much closer to my heart. It was a family trip to spend a few days on Orcas Island, part of the San Juan Islands in northwest Washington, where we’ve been going to since I was a little kid. There was a boat ride involved, this time a state ferry in place of a cruise ship. There were beaches with sunrises and sunsets, lots of boisterous sea birds, lovely walks. Instead of the ship moving us around to different locales with different stunning views, we sat still this trip, in a beach-side cabin. I was struck by how much the view varied different times of day, from the soft sweet pink of sunrise to bolder orange of sunset and countless hues of blue expressed in the sky with every stage of the day.
These adventures drove home how deeply I value and appreciate the sea. I can’t imagine living somewhere that I wouldn’t occasionally hear a fog horn or the cry of sea gulls flying above. That I couldn’t take a brief stroll to smell the sea’s briny-seaweedy aroma, hear the waves and see the herons, sailboats, ferries, fishermen and others that frequent the waterways.
Being near the sea means being near seafood, of course, my appreciation of which equally deep. We did eat well on the cruise vacation, including grilled octopus wrapped in a whisper-thin slice of Iberico ham in Barcelona, a generous portion of take-away fish & chips in Falmouth (enjoyed with a pint at a nearby pub) and lots of seafood in Norway including a small whole pan-fried plaice (a type of flatfish) and a luscious tomato-fennel stew with mussels, shrimp and Norwegian langoustine.
On Orcas Island, a highlight was our feast-like lunch at Buck Bay Shellfish (a must for seafood-lovers!). We had their clams (steamed and chowdered) and oysters (half-shell) along with Dungeness crab (whole and in cakes) that was caught nearby. Our dinners were all at the cabin, making the most of that gorgeous setting. The first night we grilled too much salmon (intentionally). Extra starred in a big salad the next night, then in a salmon-potato hash the following morning, with eggs on top.
The sea sure knows how to feed us, body and soul, whether that’s in the familiar surroundings of home or on adventures near and far.
** Next month: Into the kitchen with talk of cookbooks, grilling seafood, some favorite pantry items and more.
Odds and Ends: Snacks from the Sea
In addition to seafood, one of my favorite food groups is snacks. Specifically the salty type, preferably crunchy too. Starting with potato chips and expanding from there. Such a fan, I devoted one of my cookbooks to the subject, Salty Snacks.
Of course, there’s a fabulous intersection of seafood-snack options. The foundation of that cookbook was the salty-crunchy category (chips, crackers, nuts, popcorn and the like), but I also included snacky-savory meat, seafood and other options. One might argue that an oyster on the half-shell in its purest form is the perfect salty snack. But that would not have made for much of a recipe on its own: ingredients, 1 dozen oysters; instructions, shuck and slurp. So I offered the embellishment of a grapefruit-Campari granita for topping the briny delights in that case, to make for a cookbook-worthy inclusion. A couple other seafood options in the book were lightly fried shrimp with shichimi togarashi and smoked salmon rillettes.
It’s hard not to have noticed the increased array of sea-snacks making their way into grocery aisles lately. I am ridiculously behind on all the interesting things going on with seaweed production, though have at least gotten to know some of the cool products being made by Barnacle Foods (more on them soon). They and others are creating sauces, other condiments and seasonings among the growing array of seaweed-based products.
Back to the realm of salty-crunchy…. I only recently tried one of the puffed kelp snacks, which I’d been been seeing in online discussions but not much (yet) at my neighborhood grocery. Surely that will be changing as more products come to market and find more space on store shelves as interest grows.
I picked up a bag of 12 Tides puffed kelp chips a couple months ago to include with an aperitif spread when friends came over. New to them, too, the chips made a good first impression. Definitely a sea-side flavor, subtly so—one of my guests said they had a nice “tidal” taste.
Another brand I’ve recently sampled is Seacharrones, made with kelp grown here in Washington. Initially released last spring, these are still working into broader distribution so I was unable to find the snacks near me. They kindly sent me a sample of their products. Of them, my favorite was salt & pepper; I tend to prefer little or no seasoning on chips (though I do have a thing for Tim’s sour cream & onion).
I found all of these kelp puffs to be quite good, satisfyingly crisp and crunchy, ideal snacks for an afternoon nibble or around aperitif hour. I can definitely see adding them to the regular rotation of salty-crunchy snacks that are always on hand around here. It’ll be fun to see what more is in store for this seaweed-based slice of the snack aisle.
On Location: Conservas Pinhais in Portugal
Echoing last month’s seafood and travel theme, a quick recap of a visit we paid to a sardine cannery outside Porto. Of the 10 ports of call on our cruise, we’d only been to two before, Porto and Amsterdam. In Amsterdam we opted for a tour that took us into the countryside, which was lovely (tulips! windmills! cheese! a charming seaside fishing town!), with enough extra time to stroll into Amsterdam for some bitterballen and a sip of genever.
As for Porto, we skipped the tours or visiting the city. Being back in Portugal, I had one key goal: tinned seafood. In this issue from last fall, I sang praises of tinned seafood, including discussion of a particularly outstanding shop in Lisbon with a delicious range of selections. For this recent stop in Portugal last month, I couldn’t miss the chance to stock up on more tinned treats to bring home. When I Googled “tinned seafood Porto,” not only did a couple stores in Porto come up, but so did a cannery just outside of Porto. With two big bonuses for us: Conservas Pinhais had started offering tours a couple years ago and it is walking-distance from the terminal where we were to be docked in Matosinhos.
The only others on the tour that morning were a couple who’d learned about the tour from the New York Times, where this article was published last summer. On our Saturday tour, the production floor was quiet and we didn’t witness the bustle of activity. But it also meant that after strolling through the beautiful original office space, we could visit the production area to try our hands at a couple tasks. One was adding seasonings to empty tins in a mini assembly-line setting—not quite Lucy and Ethel at the chocolate factory, but it was still comically difficult to do what seems to be a simple task.
We also got the chance to try enclosing a tin in its paper-and-cellophane wrap, another seemingly-simple-but-not task. (This activity is part of the weekday tours too.) The results were messily-wrapped tins, along with greater appreciation for those who do it so well, so quickly. We were offered the chance to purchase our self-wrapped tins, but nah. We all opted to go with those from the pros.
Despite less than stellar accomplishments on the tour, we still had that prize at the end: sampling their products. There’s a small café upstairs where we sat down to two different tins to enjoy, plus a couple sardine-based items. These are large, meaty, flavorful sardines that are a far cry from your average can.
At that Lisbon store mentioned above, I had bought a dozen or more cans. Here I left with only six, and hours later was regretting having not purchased more. Though a week later, even after showing great restraint in purchases elsewhere, I realized six was plenty if I planned to zip my suitcase closed for the return trip. Those cans will be an extra-special treat to enjoy at occasions over the coming months. And thankfully there are plenty of outstanding tinned seafoods available these days to fill any gaps until I can get back to Portugal again.
Out and About: Spot Prawn Festival in Vancouver, BC
Spot prawns are one great example of prized regional seafoods to make a point of enjoying when you’re in the right place at the right time. Though spot prawns can be found frozen year round—and I’m all for the pleasure and convenience of good frozen seafoods—it doesn’t get much better than enjoying seafoods near their home waters when they’re in season. With the Vancouver-area season open mid-May, this festival Sunday May 28 is a prime opportunity to get in on celebrating the start of this year’s spot prawn harvest.
Held on Vancouver’s Fisherman’s Wharf, the Spot Prawn Festival’s activities include chef demonstrations, live music and the chance to stroll the docks. Beyond this free portion of the festival, you can purchase tickets for enjoying a bowl of spot prawn bisque, or go all in for the grazing-style Spot Prawn Brunch. Sounds like you can even buy some spot prawns while there to take home and cook yourself. The web site offers some chef recipes, as well. I’ve already jotted this down for next May, I can’t wait to taste a bowl of that bisque.
Recipe Box: Halibut Roasted with Radishes and Asparagus
The sheet pan photo below is from April of last year, when a few ideal examples of spring in the Northwest converged: freshly caught halibut with local radishes and asparagus. Spring started out sluggishly in the Seattle area this year. Only a few weeks ago did I get the first couple stalks of rhubarb—among the season’s early harbingers—with asparagus and radishes a week or two later.
For many many years I was convinced that the only place for radishes was in a salad or on a crudité plate—that their lot in culinary life was to be served raw. That limited view began to expand after having a soup at the gone-but-not-forgotten Le Gourmand restaurant in Seattle. An elegant puréed soup that included radishes, their contribution a slight pepperiness and hint of pink blush, it was definitely eye-opening.
I have, since then, not only warmed up to cooked radishes, but fully embrace the idea. Roasting brings out nutty-toasty character, while a quick sauté or light braise on the stove accentuates their bright fresh flavor. Now I gladly toss radishes on a pan to roast with cauliflower or green beans, and sauté with baby turnips in a generous dose of butter.
This example with halibut and asparagus is a snapshot of a random dinner at home, not in recipe-development mode, so I don’t have details of exactly how this preparation played out. When I recreate this again soon, with a bunch of radishes from my CSA bag, this is how I’d proceed. Halibut made a perfect seasonal option, other fish fillets will work well too, preferably thicker portions. If thinner, you’ll need to adjust the cooking, see notes below the photos.
Rinse a small bunch of asparagus and trim the tough ends, then cut the spears into 2- to 3-inch pieces. Rinse and trim one bunch of radishes and cut them in half; very small radishes can remain whole, extra large ones cut into quarters.
Preheat the oven to 400. Line a baking sheet with foil and drizzle oil (I use olive oil) lightly over the foil. Set a piece of halibut fillet (about 12 ounces, for two) in the center and add the asparagus and radishes to either side. Drizzle a bit more oil over the vegetables and halibut, then sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Scatter a couple tablespoons of chopped chives over all.
Roast until the halibut has just a touch of translucence at the center and the vegetables are tender (and perhaps a bit lightly browned), about 12 to 15 minutes. Timing will depend on the thickness of the fish, this fillet piece was quick thick.
Cut the halibut piece in half and set on individual plates, with the asparagus and radishes alongside.
It’s a straight-forward preparation, but a brief side note on timing:
One trick with sheet-pan cooking is trying to assure all the elements will be done at the same time. That’s especially true when cooking seafood, particularly leaner fish like halibut: you want to be sure it cooks ‘just right,’ not under- or over-cooked. Make the prime target of doneness the seafood, to be sure it’s at its best.
For the asparagus and radish pieces with that thick piece of halibut, I found the timing worked great for all to cook at the same time. With other sheet-pan accompaniments (or a thinner piece of fish to avoid overcooking), you might want to partially roast larger pieces of dense vegetables (such as potato or carrot, or larger florets of cauliflower or broccoli) before adding the seafood to the sheet pan. Another option is to cut longer-cooking ingredients into small enough pieces that they’re more likely to sync up with the cooking time of the seafood.