The beauty of bacalao: In the hands of a master, salt-dried codfish sings
Posted on Thu, Mar. 06, 2008
By Enrique Fernandez
efernandez@MiamiHerald.com
Like many Cuban Americans, I grew up eating bacalao a la vizcaina (codfish Basque style), rehydrated slabs of dried codfish cooked in a typical tomato, onion and pepper sauce (sofrito). Not very inspiring, really.
That desiccated fish from the North Atlantic became a staple on a Caribbean island is an anomaly of history -- a gift of immigrants from Spain's Basque region. And unless one's ancestors were among them, we Cubans generally are not masters of cod.
Bland in its fresh state, cod benefits from salt-drying. The process concentrates the flavor, and the reconstituted fish, if treated properly, has wonderful taste and texture.
It was not until I visited Spain that I experienced the full glory of salt cod, particularly in a sublime Basque preparation called bacalao al pil pil: The fish, soft and pillowy, swims in a bed of creamy, golden sauce.
Later, when I dared to try cooking it, I discovered there is no cream in the sauce. It is, instead, an emulsion of olive oil and the juices emanating from the fish as it cooks, ever so slowly, in a pan that is shaken by hand for 20 minutes or more. (The name comes from the Basque pilpiliar, ''to shake.'') In my hands, alas, the emulsion curdled and the dish was a disaster.
When a new Basque restaurant, Sinfonía, announced the pil pil dish was on the menu, I rushed there not only to eat it but to learn the secrets of making it from chef Jaime Pérez, 72, who was born in a town near Bilbao.
Pérez begins with salt cod loin from Norway (''The best comes from Scandinavia,'' he says, echoing age-old wisdom), and soaks it for 36 to 48 hours, changing the water frequently.
He cooks garlic cloves slowly in extra-virgin olive oil to flavor it, then discards the garlic. He pours the oil into a clay pot and heats it on the stove. He puts the cod in the oil, and for half an hour moves the pot up and down while the fish releases its juices.
If the sauce is too thick, he adds a few drops of water. Finally, he removes the pot from the fire, but keeps shaking it while the fish and the sauce finish cooking.
''Clay takes a long time to heat, but also a long time to cool down,'' Pérez explains.
His pil pil turns out beautifully, as does his bacalao a la vizcaina. The latter is quite different from what is served at local Cuban restaurants, although, like the Cubans, Pérez uses tomatoes in his sauce rather than the traditional pimientos choriceros, a mild Spanish chile he says he cannot get here.
The Basques mastered salt-cod cookery because they dominated the cod trade from the 11th to the 16th century -- an epic story Mark Kurlansky tells in his award-winning book, Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World (Walker, 1997). For a wealth of salt-cod recipes, however, no one can beat their chief competitors on the Grand Banks, the Portuguese.
The menus at Old Lisbon on Coral Way and the newer Coimbra on West Flagler Street are full of cod dishes. Coimbra's chef-owner, Fernando Santos, offers such classics as reconstituted loin of cod, grilled and served with a sauce of oil, parsley and garlic -- a dish of austere simplicity. Other cod dishes revel in excess: potatoes, egg, cream sauces, mayonnaise, the works.
Santos, too, sings the praises of Norwegian cod, although he complains about the prices. Canadian cod is an alternative. (Overfished to near-collapse, cod is relatively scare and commensurately expensive today.)
''You can take advantage of every part of the cod,'' says Santos. ''The cheeks, the tongue, the liver.'' Bone-in cod is tastier than the deboned loins, he says, but only hard-core cod fans, usually Portuguese or Brazilian, insist on it and call ahead to have it made.
Coimbra also serves bacalhau à Brás, a Portuguese comfort food that I've had almost every time I've dined with Brazilians. It's nothing but shredded cod with fine strips of onion and fried, shoestring-cut potatoes, all scrambled with egg. It's a dish that can evoke home even in someone like me, who never had it at home.
There is one dish at which all salt-cod eating nationalities excel, and that is fritters: Cuban frituras de bacalao, Portuguese bolinhos de bacalhau, croquetas de bacalao -- the latter good not only at a Basque emporium like Sinfonía but at every Spanish restaurant in town. Everybody gets it right, even Yankees, whose fish cakes are made with cod.
And, having learned some of chef Perez's secrets, I'm ready to tackle bacalao al pil pil again in my own kitchen. Any time now.
If you go:
• Sinfonía (Basque), 4825 SW Eighth St., Coral Gables: Lunch and dinner; dinner entrees $13.50-$33; wine and beer only; free parking; 305-445-1103.
But it does not stop there, they provide the Bacalao al Pil Pil recipe too, here you have it:
Recipe: Bacalao Al Pil Pil (Codfish in a Special Garlic Sauce)
Posted on Thu, Mar. 06, 2008
Main dish
Codfish in a Special Garlic Sauce
The day before you plan to cook, place the salted codfish in a large pot, cover it with cold water and let it soak for 2 hours. Drain the fish, cover it with fresh water and soak for 10 more hours or overnight. Drain the fish again. Remove any bones and skin, and cut it into 3-inch squares
• 1 ½ pounds salted codfish, prepared as described above
• 2 cups Spanish olive oil
• 20 garlic cloves, peeled and cut into slivers
Place the codfish pieces in a 4- to 6-quart pot, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer, uncovered, until the fish is tender, about ½ hour. Drain the fish, reserving 1 cup of the cooking liquid.
In a large pan at least 4 inches deep, with two sturdy handles, heat the olive oil over medium heat and sauté the garlic until golden but not brown. Remove the garlic with a slotted spoon and set it aside. Allow the oil to cool in the pan for about 1 hour.
Place the fish in the cool oil, turn the heat to medium-low, and rhythmically shake the pan as the fish fries. Do not stop shaking (''pilpiliando,'' as the Basques say) for 20 minutes, or until the oil has turned somewhat milky. With a slotted spoon, remove the fish to a large casserole (an earthenware one is typical).
Pour the cooked oil into a container with a spout (a gravy separator works best) and let it cool until the milky substance has settled to the bottom. Carefully pour the oil into another container, reserving the milky substance.
Heat the oven to 325 degrees. Place the milky substance in a blender or food processor and process it at low speed. With the machine running, pour in the oil in a slow, steady stream; the mixture will thicken like mayonnaise. With the blender still running, pour in enough of the reserved cooking liquid so that the sauce is thin enough to pour.
Scatter the garlic slivers over the fish and pour the sauce over all. Cover the casserole and warm it in the oven for about 20 minutes. (You may instead warm it in the microwave at a medium setting for about 5 minutes.) Makes 4 servings.
Source: A Taste of Old Cuba by María Josefa Lluriá de O'Higgins (HarperCollins, 1994).
.... ... .
No comments:
Post a Comment