Fried masala fish - Mumbai Style

You get into the rut of working and before you know it, you've actually managed to survive, just barely, an entire working week eating just chlorophyll and gluten. But thanks to a little glad somewhere deep within the subconscious mind, before I go into cardiac arrest from food boredom, my being starts displaying unmissable symptoms. Day 2 brings on periodic bouts of dismay, followed by that "it's going to be okay soon" feeling. On day 3 the hopeful feeling is been replaced by an "it's the end of the world" sort of thing and the dismay gives way to an aggressive cynicism towards everything. Day 3 is a bad one. There is an anger. But not a destructive anger. It's a "I am so angry that I think a little cry might help" kind of anger. A pitiable state. Day 4 is hilarious. At least it seems that way now. You are going mad and you know it. Yet can't do anything about it. I start seeing life in butcher charts. It's incredibly bizarre. The drive home becomes a little hazardous, stray cows, a cause of distraction. I start playing this game in my head where I rate stray bovine, out of 10, on the basis of muscle distribution, rump cover, rib extension and carcass quality. I'll smile to myself when I think I've spotted a winner. An imaginary blue ribbon awarding ceremony follows. The crowd cheers. The winning specimen bows it's head in humility as a result of this massive honour bestowed upon it. All the other cows moo as the Chosen One is led away by men in hair nets and white aprons, all to the sound of a 12 inch blades making repeated swift contacts with steels. I know ... I told you it's mad! This is followed by a restless night and a feeling of certain doom in event that the sad state of affairs is not dealt with.

This Wednesday was day 4. I hadn't cooked fish in while and I went to buy just that after work. I bought this fish that I always see at the market, but never buy. It's local name is Bakra Macchi. Literally translating to Goat Fish. Goatfish is also a name given to a group of Mullet but I am not sure if that's where the name comes from. If you know your fish, out with it. Even more local names are very welcome.

A basic masala fish is quick, easy and delish. Most regular fish eating families in India would have their own versions. Coriander seeds, coconut, chili, turmeric, mustard seeds, ginger and garlic would feature in most them. Here's a version that I reverse engineered from what I ate in Mumbai over one home-cooked Sunday lunch. The masala used to marinade the fish would also make a decent base for a curry. Just cook it with some water and coconut milk and you have yourself a simple curry to throw some fish chunks or prawns into.

Any white sea fish would do for this. Scaled and gutted, leave the fish whole. Make the customary cuts both sides of the body.


Bakra Macchi

For the masala, whizz in a grinder:

• roasted coriander seeds
• roasted grated coconut
• roasted mustard seeds
• red chili power
• turmeric
• juice of one lime
• ginger
• garlic
• a little bit of vinegar
• salt

Coriander seeds will make the base for the paste so be a little generous. The coconut will take away some heat so don't be shy with the chili. Grind all the dry ingredients first and set aide. Then whizz the wet ones before mixing both together and give it all one last spin. Add water to get a spreadable consistency.

Seasoning a marinade can be tricky. Just remember - season boldly. The marinade has to compensate for the lack of salt in the fish. I read in one cookbook, don't remember which one now, that you can season your marinade about 7% more than what you think is normal to account for the meat. I think 8% works better.

  

Let the fish marinade for some time. Three quarters of an hour should do it. Before shallow frying in a pan coat the fish in semolina (rava). And there you have it.

The messy art of Hot Potting

21st March 2011, Dinner.

Frogs in a Pot

After a traditional Hunan lunch, mild flavours, quite skillful in preparation, it was an adventurous Schewan dinner. I first ate Hot Pot in Edinburgh and it became a pretty frequent ritual. A few of us would go there and order copious amounts of meat with two different broths. A Schezwan one for the one's that didn't mind shedding a tear over dinner and a mild chicken one for the men. Don't mind weeping like a girl now and then.

The pot came with a crimson red broth, with sprouts and millions of little Schezwan Peppers. And had frog feet sticking out (no frogs in Scotland). Frog is a Schezwan favourite and I quite like frog myself. It's a very tender meat, sweet and delicate. The frogs are not like the colourful critters you see on National Geographic, photographed against the foliage in a rainforest. These Bull Frogs are farmed and are the size of a quail. I wanted to dig right in but Hot Potting is a patience-testing indulgence.

Bull Frogs

The cooked frogs, and other meats, were eaten with a sesame sauce. Superbly nutty. And perfect to balance the eye-popping heat. You eat all of the frog, bones and all. Only the larger bones get spat out.

After the frogs, thin slices of lamb went in. The pot was topped up with chicken stick now and again. When the water in the pot evaporates the spice gets really concentrated and you can feel any meat coming out of it burning its way into your stomach.

Sasame Sauce with Lamb

Hot Pot Frog

 

Hot Pot Shrimp and Shrimp Balls and the Frog Graveyard

The lamb was followed by shrimp, shrimp balls, a green leaf which I couldn't identify a 100% (think it was from the spinach family) and tofu. The tofu was unbelievable. The best I've ever had. Probably made on the premises. Oh yes, and a flat potato noodle. Looked like a really wide glass noodle, almost an inch wide. Tasted fantastic when soaked in that sesame sauce.
Like life in China on the whole, there are rules that must be followed while Hot Potting. A separate pair of chopsticks are reserved for the pot. Don't think this would be the case if you were eating at home with family. And there are certain things that don't go into the pot together. Don't ask me why. Maybe to do with cooking times. But I have a hunch it's to do with some cultural significance. Like 'no tofu and that green leaf together in pot', as I was told.

I was a little disappointed to see that the shrimp and the shrimp balls were frozen. But the place was packed with locals and if it's good enough for them, it damn well is good enough for me.

Tried asking for a fork for someone with us and no one knew what the hell I was on about. Proper Chinese then. Everything was finished off with some Chinese White Wine. 60% volume. Wine my ass!

Dog Don't Eat

Dog Don't Eat

21st March 2011, Lunch.

After having spent the morning, and the early part of the afternoon, walking among sheds at an industrial estate, a good lunch was needed. I wanted to eat what Chinese eat for lunch on a Monday afternoon. We drove to downtown Tainjin and reached what I am told is national icon serving food of the Hunan province. Dog Don't Eat is an impressive looking place. Surrounded by modern development, the place still lives up to the stereo-typical idea of a Chinese food joint. A small entrance (relatively, the place is 5 stories big), gold and red, and the un-missable slanted roof. The name apparently comes from a person called Dog (obviously lost in translation), who was not liked very much by the Chinese. Or something to that effect.

Normally I would jump at the menu and would want to order at least 2 things from each page. But no! I am unlikely to pick the stuff a local would pick. So the ordering was outsourced.

We started with some boiled soya pods, peanuts and some other bean. Boiled in really salty water. After I had piled up the peeled pods my host tells me that this other bean doesn't need to be peeled. Tells me after I have spent 10 minutes doing exactly that. The empty pods taste nice too. All this peeling was accompanied by a green salad tossed in what seemed like some peanut oil, soya sauce and sesame seeds. Good stuff. All with a steady stream of green tea.

To start

This was followed by a kind of thick soup made from a small variety of rice (I am told). I think it may have been wheat though. Was served at room temperature and was bland. Could do with lashings of Blue Dragon Sweet Chilli sauce. Only joking.The soya sauce tasted different to any I have had before. My host tells me that north of Tainjin the soya sauce gets saltier, gets sweeter when you go south and is sour in Tainjin. It tasted like soya sauce with vinegar mixed in it. And I learnt that it is acceptable to sip soya sauce out of the little dish. I drank a little too much and felt a little sick during the drive back to work.

Cereal Soup and a pretty superb Soya Sauce

Then came the steamed dumplings. Not exactly dumplings actually. These things were called Pow Zzah in these parts. Pronounced that way. Very difficult for me to spell a word that to me is more sound than word. The casings were fluffy. Made from fine wheat flour and were fermented, I think. Couldn't confirm that - tried but the language barrier again.

Pow - Zzah!

Little Parcels of Goodness