I’m leading here with the ‘before’ picture this time because I think it’s a really good illustration of how I could have been seduced by a fillet from something called a ‘dogfish’ (NOTE: the market prefers to describe it as ‘sand shark’).

The image is of a one-pound fillet, after it had been halved, lying on our kitchen counter yesterday evening.

This is how it went a little later, sitting atop a round plate in an arrangement of a square, more circles, and what looks like a rectangle

I had never cooked sand shark/dogfish before (‘rock salmon’ in the UK, ‘saumonette’ in France, ‘Palombo’ in Italy). I’m not certain I had ever even eaten it, so when I came across some beautiful, very fresh fillets in a small bucket inside my fishmonger’s iced cases Friday afternoon, I decided it was time I started.

The hardest part of the operation turned out to be researching how to prepare it. I settled on a recipe, described as Italian, and with an Italian name (‘Palombo al vino bianco‘), possessing one of the great virtues of that culture’s cooking tradition: a minimum number of ingredients, to keep from disguising the flavor of the best meat, fish, or vegetables available to the cook.

We were both pretty pleased with the outcome.  Barry loved it, and I have only one reservation, about whether I had sautéed the fillet just a little too much, but the recipe, which said how long to cook it, didn’t describe the thickness of the fillet it was dealing with. Since I had absolutely no experience with this fish myself, so I couldn’t draw on my own expertise.

The only way I’m ever going to know is to cook sand shark/dogfish/ground shark/etc. again. I’m sure it’s going to happen.

 

• one 17-ounce sand shark fillet from Pure Vida Seafood, brought to room temperature, halved crosswise (I’m getting very good at cutting equal halves out of even the most irregular shaped fish or meat), dusted with some local North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour, shaking off the excess, sautéed in a little over one tablespoon of olive oil inside a large heavy oval tin-lined copper pan above a high flame for about 5 minutes on each side, or until browned, seasoned with sea salt and Freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, the heat then turned off while a second copper pan was heated over a low to moderate flame with another tablespoon of oil before 2 fresh finely-chopped spring shallots from Alewife Farm were added and cooked until softened, stirring occasionally, followed by one small (or halved full-size) salted and rinsed Italian anchovy, at least a tablespoon of chopped Italian parsley from from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a half cup of Gruet Brut sparkling wine (from an opened bottle that remained from entertaining guests earlier in the evening), the heat increased and the liquid reduced almost completely, then a tablespoon of fresh water added, the sauce seasoned with a pinch each of salt and pepper and poured over the top of the fillet halves, the pan heated over a low flame for a minute or two, the fish served on the plates with a sprinkling of nasturtium flowers from Windfall Farms
• eight German Butterball potatoes from Berried Treasures boiled, drained, dried in the pan, rolled in a little olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and frshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, tossed with chopped summery savory from Stokes Farm
• two long heirloom tomatoes (‘Striped Roman’?) from Eckerton Hill Farm, halved lengthwise, the cut sides sprinkled with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, grilled face down on an enameled cast iron grill pan for 3 minutes or so, turned over and the rounded side grilled for a little less time, removed, arranged on the plates and brushed with a little balsamic vinegar

 

• the wine, after we had put aside 2 good table wines, only because they turned out to be unsuitable for the food (what is it about sand shark?), was a Spanish sherry, Lustau, ‘Papirusa’ Light Manzanilla Sherry, from Sherry Lehmann

There was a dessert.

• small oval bowls of Lā Loos ‘Vanilla Snowflake’ goat milk ice cream from Whole Foods Market, drizzled with a sauce I had made from Wilklow Orchards gooseberries

 

• the music throughout  was the album, ‘Unbound’, by the Jasper String Quartet

I’m calling it summer shark, even though it was being labelled “sand shark” at the Greenmarket (it’s also called ‘dogfish’, in some places; ‘rock salmon’ in the UK, ‘saumonette’ in France, and ‘palombo’ in Italy), but whatever it’s called, it’s been impossibly delicious each time I’ve prepared it.

This time the vegetable was terrific as well. It was possibly the best grilled Japanese eggplant I’ve ever done, and that’s saying a lot, since it’s my favorite cultivar of all the ‘berries’ of the nightshade family.

Also, just when I had run out of fresh seasoning alliums, some beautiful late-August’ red spring onions’ (they’re actually available much of the season) showed up at the Greenmarket yesterday, helping to ensure the quality of the sauce I would be making for the shark.

• one long ‘summer shark’ fillet weighing one pound from Pura Vida Seafood, brought to room temperature, cut into 4 sections crosswise, dusted with some lightly-seasoned local North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour, shaking off the excess, sautéed in a little over one tablespoon of olive oil inside a large heavy oval antique copper skillet above a high flame for 4 or 5 minutes on each side, or until browned, the heat then turned off while a second pan, a broad based copper pot, was heated over a low to moderate flame with another tablespoon of oil before 2 fresh finely-chopped red spring onions from Lani’s Farm were added and cooked until softened, stirring occasionally, followed by one medium salted, rinsed, and filleted Sicilian anchovy, more than a tablespoon of chopped Italian parsley from Phillips Farms, and a half cup of wine, an Oregon Pinot Gris, the heat increased and the liquid reduced almost completely before a tablespoon of fresh water was added, the sauce seasoned with a pinch of both local L.I. sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, then poured over the top of the fillet pieces, their skillet heated over a low flame for a minute or two, the fish served on the plates with a sprinkling of pericón (‘Mexican tarragon’) from Norwich Meadows Farm
• three medium Japanese eggplant (12 ounces altogether), from Campo Rosso Farm, each halved lengthwise and scored into a hatch pattern with a very sharp knife, brushed all over with a mixture of a olive oil, 2 finely-chopped ‘Nootka rose’ garlic cloves from TransGenerational Farm, some super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, local sea salt and black pepper, pan-grilled inside a large cast iron ribbed pan above 2 brisk flames, turning twice, adding more of the material from the marinade the second time, a few small really delicious ‘honeydrop’ heirloom cherry tomatoes, also from TransGenerational Farm, tossed onto the grill pan just before the eggplant had been removed to the plates and heated, briefly, just enough to warm them through while still retaining their shapes, after which they were arranged strewn on top of their pan mates, both sprinkled with torn spearmint leaves from Stokes Farm and drizzled with a bit more olive oil
• the wine was a Spanish (Rías Baixas/Val do Salnés) white, Albariño “Xión”, Bodegas y Viñedos Attis 2018, from Astor Wines 

• the music was a glorious recording of Hugo von Hofmanstahl and RIchard Strauss’ ‘1909-1910 opera (“reactionary luxuriance”*, composed, amazingly, after ‘Salome’ and Elektra’), Der Rosenkavalier’, Herbert von Karajan conducting the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, with Agnes Baltsa, Anna Tomowa-Sintow, Kurt Moll, and Janet Perry

 

*the phrase appears in this 2003 article in the Independent

 

[the last image, of the Hogarth print that was von Hofmannstahl’s inspiration for the Marschallin’s levée scene in the first act, is from the National Gallery]

The fish was brilliant, even more delicious than it had been the first time I reeled it in from the surface of the range, probably because it was cooked more à point this time. I’m not going to think about the cost, although I have to say that it set me back a full $6 [yeah] for the one-pound filet that we shared; that’s less that what 2 filet-o-fish would have cost us, were we of the golden arches persuasion.

Karl Karlin, when he sold the filet to me earlier in the day from his Riverhead, Long Island family‘s stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, prefers to call it ‘summer shark’, which is a name I don’t see on line, where it’s more frequently dubbed, ‘dogfish’, ‘spiny dogfish’, ‘mud shark’, or ‘sand shark’. Sometimes, in Europe, the name it goes by alludes to ‘salmon’, which is a very different creature that bears no relationship to this fish other than color.

I like ‘summer shark’ very much, both the name and the delicacy.

Oh, and it’s as pleasing to look at, both before and after cooking, as it is savoring it once it’s been set on the table.

• *one ‘summer shark’ fillet weighing one pound from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, brought to room temperature, halved crosswise, dusted with some lightly-seasoned local North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour, shaking off the excess, sautéed in a little over one tablespoon of olive oil inside a large heavy oval antique copper pan above a high flame for about 5 minutes on each side, or until browned, the heat then turned off while a second pan, a medium size vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot, was heated over a low to moderate flame with another tablespoon of oil before 2 fresh finely-chopped scallions from Lani’s Farm were added and cooked until softened, stirring occasionally, followed by one medium salted and rinsed Italian anchovy, more than a tablespoon of chopped Italian parsley from Keith’s Farm, and a half cup of wine, an Oregon (Williamette Valley) white, Scott Kelley Pinot Gris Willamette 2017, from Naked Wines, the heat increased and the liquid reduced almost completely before a tablespoon of fresh water added, the sauce seasoned with a pinch of both salt and pepper and poured over the top of the fillet halves, the pan heated over a low flame for a minute or two, the fish served on the plates with a sprinkling of purple micro basil from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a mix of 2 heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and a few small red tomatoes from Alewife Farm, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a little bit of fresh thyme from Campo Rosso Farm and marjoram buds from  Stokes Farm, both chopped, grilled briefly on a small enameled cast iron pan, arranged on the plates, where they were drizzled with a little olive oil and scattered with more of the herbs
• seven ounces of haricots verts from Norwich Meadows Farm, left whole, blanched, drained and dried in the same pan over low-medium heat, shaking, then set aside in a bowl until the fish was cooking, at which time they were reheated in a little oil inside a heavy well-seasoned cast iron pan, finished with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and mixed with dill flowers from Alewife Farm
• the wine was a California (Central Coast/Santa Ynez Valley) white, Rick Boyer Santa Ynez Valley Dry White Blend 2017, from Naked Wines
  by Rick Boyer
• the music was the album, ‘Aaron Jay Kernis: Colored Field, Still Movement With Hymn‘

It’s not really much “like lobster”, as some would have it, but it is a sweet fish, in more than one sense.

I’ve written a bit about tilefish in an earlier post.

It’s difficult to imagine that it was once included within that hoary commercial seafood classification, ‘trash fish’, along with, among others species I would now consider delicacies, like sea robin, dogfish, and even redfish, hake, and porgy.

These 2 fillets were my first choice at the fishmongers’ on Friday.

I was reluctant to turn on the oven on a very warm night, and I didn’t want to use any of the preparations that are my usual alternatives to roasting. I looked around on line and found this simple and very delicious recipe, making only a few alterations.

The polenta included in the photograph accompanying the recipe would have been very nice, but I had some vegetables to bring out last night.

They were: some very deep green and very fresh okra, the very last little basket at the stand where I found it (also, the only okra I saw that day and the only okra I’ve seen so far this year); and a small amount of beautiful rainbow chard that I had washed and rinsed 2 days earlier, before realizing I had more than enough for that night’s meal.

I also had some slightly eccentric additions I wanted to add to the tilefish: the last of the garlic flowers I had enjoyed scattering on top of so many things for at least a whole week; and a package of near-micro nasturtium leaves I had picked up that day.

• two 9-ounce tilefish fillets from Pure Vida Seafood, washed, rinsed, patted dry, sprinkled lightly with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper and set aside; 2 tablespoons of butter and part of one small dried dried peperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia heated over medium heat and one whole garlic clove from Norwich Meadows Farm allowed to roast in the warm butter for a few minutes, until it started to color (I found the butter beginning to color just before the garlic did, but that didn’t present a problem) and then removed, the tilefish fillets added to the pan flesh side down and cooked, still over medium heat, for maybe 2 minutes, allowing them to also brown, after which they were flipped over and 2 tablespoons of chopped spring shallots from Alewife Farm were tossed in, the butter mixture spooned over the fish (I usually find it easier to use a silicone basting brush), after which the pan was covered with aluminum foil for about 2  minutes and removed, the juices once again spooned or brushed over the the fillets until they had browned and been cooked through (perhaps for another 2 minutes), when they were removed to the plates, sprinkled with lemon zest (of an Organic lemon from Whole Foods Market) and a little lemon juice, a bit of garlic flowers scattered on top, chopped lightly, and some rather small nasturtium leaves from Two Guys from Woodbridge draped across the middle of the fillets
• okra from Oak Grove Plantation, sautéed over a high flame in a large enameled cast iron pan with a little olive oil, seasoned with sea salt
• a portion of a bunch of rainbow chard from Echo Creek Farm, the larger part of which had already been made a part of this meal 2 days earlier, wilted in a little olive oil in which 2 halved garlic cloves from Norwich Meadows Farm had been heated, then seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper and drizzled with a little olive oil, served in small oval bowls to the side of the plates
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Terredora Falanghina 2016, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Musick For Severall Friends’, a compendium of seventeenth-century English music by the composers John Wilson, Christopher Simpson, Johann Schop, Henry Butler, and Matthew Locke, with Mary Springfels directing the Newberry Consort

Becca Schlaff Dorade oil on canvas 36″ x 60″

 

I forgot to put the SD card back in the camera after uploading the last batch of my pictures to the computer, so unfortunately there are no photo images of his meal.  Instead I’ve located the painting above as a stand-in for the main focus of the meal, and I managed to save some phone images of some of the vegetables while they were still at the Greenmarket.

Dolphinfish, perhaps the males especially, with their prominent square foreheads, are among the most spectacular-looking finned creatures in the sea.  In addition, they are apparently among the most plentiful, at least among fish of their size.  They are also absolutely delicious, which brings them to this blog.

Maybe it’s the New England in me, but I don’t like using the name, ‘mahi-mahi’ on this side of the continent, so I will continue to refer to this creature as a ‘dolphinfish’, or ‘dolphin’ (or, in cookery, as ‘dorade’, or ‘dorado’, the name by which online sources say Europeans have come to know it, at least in their kitchens and on their dining tables).

After writing all of that, I will confess that I remain confused about the freedom with which the name ‘dorade’ seems to be thrown about on the other side of the Atlantic, at least according to the Wikipedia entry for ‘mahi-mahi’.  In Europe, Dorade actually seems to be a form of bream, and not the ‘common dogfish‘.

All of which reflects the fact that, like most fish species, dolphinfish are both blessed with, and easily confused through, the use of many names.  Today most people in the western hemisphere know it as mahi-mahi, a rather cute-sounding Hawaiian name (meaning ‘strong-strong’, possibly an allusion to the fish’s sturdy appearance as much as its fighting spirit when hooked). That tag was apparently broadcast beyond the central Pacific by merchandisers who wished to avoid the common confusion of the sport and commercial fish with a beloved mammal [yeah, you’d thnk..].   They share the name because, it is said, both creatures have a habit of swimming alongside boats.

Finally, when it comes to the word, ‘dolphin’, my imagination is never very far from the graceful creatures that appear so frequently in classical design and architecture. I mentioned this in my first Food Blog post about preparing dolphinfish.  But of course I would love them for that alone.

• exactly one pound of dorade fillet from Pura Vida Fisheries, dry-marinated with more than half a tablespoon of lemon zest, an equal amount of thyme leaves from Keith’s Farm, salt, and pepper, set aside for 20 minutes or so, then seared in a hot pan for about 3 minutes, carefully turned over and that side seared for 3-4 minutes, the heat lowered and the pan loosely covered for a few minutes (depending on thickness), with aluminum foil if no other cover is available, during which time some bruised fresh ramp fruit from Berried Treasures and thinly-sliced shallots from Keith’s Farm were introduced and briefly sautéed with the fish before it was removed and put onto two plates, and the pan juices poured over

• minutina from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, drained, then wilted very slightly in low-to-medium-hot olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper

• a salsa of halved tiny golden cherry tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and a smaller amount of delicious little [about an inch-and-a-half-round] lemon cucumbers from Berried Treasures, sliced, together dressed with olive oil, salt, pepper, a bit of white balsamic vinegar, and chopped copper fennel from Berried Treasures
• The wine was an Argentinian white, Jelu Estate Torrontes 2014, from San Juan
• the music was Lully’s ‘Amadis’, Clavecin et direction par Christophe Rousset

 

[image at the top is from the website of Becca Schlaff]