How do you cook that? she asked.
In milk, I said, with onions, the resulting sauce thickened and then poured over the fish.
She, a Filipino in her forties, was behind the deli counter in Woolworths and I was buying some smoked cod. She looked surprised, as though she had never even sold a piece of smoked cod, let alone cooked one. In doing so she confirmed my theory, developed here some time in the past, that smoked cod is the fish that time forgot. Our great- and standard-grandmothers cooked it and perhaps even our mothers. I have never seen anyone buy it, but it still sits there in the fish section in the supermarket deli. Perhaps being smoke-preserved it needs to be thrown out only once a week, unlike fresh fish, which turns over every day. So the supermarkets continue to stock it for some obscure ever-diminishing clientele, possibly me alone. Let's set up an exclusive organisation and make me the president. The Smoked Cod International Fanciers' Institute: SCI-FI.
This year, instead of cooking the fish and serving it with the white sauce on top and potatoes on the side, I made it in one dish, fisherman's pie-style.
On a very low heat, simmer one kilogram of cod in milk to which you have added a finely chopped onion. Drain the fish, and reserve the milk sauce to thicken slightly with cornflour.
Meanwhile, peel and put three or four large potatoes on to boil.
Flake the fish, combine it with the milk sauce and place the mixture in a large casserole.
Mash the potatoes with salt, pepper and chopped parsley and spoon over the top of the fish mixture.
Add a knob of butter, cover the casserole and bake in a medium oven for about half an hour. Add more chopped parsley to serve.
Broccoli florets boiled with rounds of zucchini – dressed in a little of the sauce; bread and butter to mop up the remaining sauce; pinot grigio.
Clink, clink. Don't come any closer. Just kidding.
In milk, I said, with onions, the resulting sauce thickened and then poured over the fish.
She, a Filipino in her forties, was behind the deli counter in Woolworths and I was buying some smoked cod. She looked surprised, as though she had never even sold a piece of smoked cod, let alone cooked one. In doing so she confirmed my theory, developed here some time in the past, that smoked cod is the fish that time forgot. Our great- and standard-grandmothers cooked it and perhaps even our mothers. I have never seen anyone buy it, but it still sits there in the fish section in the supermarket deli. Perhaps being smoke-preserved it needs to be thrown out only once a week, unlike fresh fish, which turns over every day. So the supermarkets continue to stock it for some obscure ever-diminishing clientele, possibly me alone. Let's set up an exclusive organisation and make me the president. The Smoked Cod International Fanciers' Institute: SCI-FI.
This year, instead of cooking the fish and serving it with the white sauce on top and potatoes on the side, I made it in one dish, fisherman's pie-style.
On a very low heat, simmer one kilogram of cod in milk to which you have added a finely chopped onion. Drain the fish, and reserve the milk sauce to thicken slightly with cornflour.
Meanwhile, peel and put three or four large potatoes on to boil.
Flake the fish, combine it with the milk sauce and place the mixture in a large casserole.
Mash the potatoes with salt, pepper and chopped parsley and spoon over the top of the fish mixture.
Add a knob of butter, cover the casserole and bake in a medium oven for about half an hour. Add more chopped parsley to serve.
Broccoli florets boiled with rounds of zucchini – dressed in a little of the sauce; bread and butter to mop up the remaining sauce; pinot grigio.
Clink, clink. Don't come any closer. Just kidding.
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