When I was growing up, my family ate fish once or twice a week. Living by the Baltic sea, it was the easiest and most natural thing in the world. Tuesday and Saturday mornings my parents would go to the market and pick up some freshly caught fish, which we would cook and eat the same day.
It was usually perch, pike-perch or whitefish. Occasionally herring, but it was a little too fiddly for my taste. When I was very young and the Baltic was colder and slightly saltier, we often caught our own cod on long, cold fishing trips where we kept warm by drinking hot chocolate out of a flask. My grandfather fished with nets and brought home dozens of flat, brown delicious flounders which my mother and grandmother would gut and scale in the garden while I wandered around, eating redcurrants off the shrubs.
I loved fish, probably because my mother is a fabulous cook and always made it taste delicious. There was an endless variety of recipes, but I particularly enjoyed it fried in breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese, or cooked with cream and herbs, or baked in the oven on a bed of sliced potatoes.
Now, I hardly ever eat fish and I miss it. My darling husband, although otherwise more or less omnivorous and very appreciative of my cooking, isn't particularly keen on fish. Actually, he does eat fish - but mainly those rare fishy things that I hate. He likes fish fingers (shudder), strange, brown Jewish fish balls, and hideous, smelly pickled herring (which I probably should like, as a Scandinavian, but I hate it). If there's nothing else to eat, he can also handle a main meal consisting of fish - but he'd always rather have steak, and this is very much reflected in our everyday eating.
But that's not the main problem. I live in England now, and fish is a very different commodity. Supermarkets sell it sealed in plastic vacuum packs, and when it comes out it smells odd and feels slimy. None of the fresh water fish that I know and love are available. Instead, I stare at the alien, filleted beings that are on offer at the fish mongers and wish I knew what to do with them. How do you cook monkfish? Is something as pink as a red mullet really edible? As for those peculiar skate wing things - what is a skate, exactly? When we eat out, I often choose a fish option, but I very rarely brave it at home. When I do, it's always something safe like salmon or tuna steaks. Nice, but yawn-inducing.
The fish situation is made even more complicated by the fact that I love cod but my conscience won't allow me to buy it unless it says THIS COD COMES FROM A FAMILY OF SEVERAL TRILLION AND EATING IT WON'T HAVE ANY IMPACT WHATSOEVER ON THE OVER-FISHING OF THE WORLD'S SEAS on the package. Funnily enough, it never does.
Nevertheless, I want to eat more fish. I also want to be able to cook local fish well. Many of our friends and family members keep kosher, and when we have them over for dinner it would be nice to able to serve something non-vegetarian.
In other words, this is the beginning of a my fishy adventure. I will document my experiences here, as I work my way through English fish eating ranging from fish pie and fish cake to kedgeree and skate wings. Smoked salmon can no longer be my main contact with the sea - wish me luck!
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