Fish

This meal is a combo of two favorite preparations: francese and piccata. Francese are egg-battered cutlets or fillets, and piccata are simply flour-dredged or plain cutlets or fillets sautéed with lemon and wine. I was never good at making decisions, especially regarding dinner, so I made up this two-for-one dinner. Serve with wilted fresh spinach or green salad.

This dish is fast and healthy and incorporates a favorite Sicilian combo: oranges, red onions, and oregano.

This one is especially good at summer’s end.

No panko (Japanese bread crumbs)? No problem! I got a great recipe from an old JayCee/community cookbook in New England. One local mom made Rice Krispie fish fillets in the oven with melted margarine. What a great substitute for panko flakes! Crushed Krispies! Cool! Here’s my take . . . with a side of No-Pain Vegetable Lo Mein.

Serve with oil-and-vinegar-dressed slaw and specialty chips such as Terra brand’s Yukon Gold onion and garlic chips.

Remove the seeds from only half the jalapeño pepper. The heat lives in the seeds and this dish is a balance of heat with sweet.

Food Network is located at Chelsea Market, in Manhattan. The Lobster Place is a great seafood shop within this huge market. I made up this meal one night during a run of taping for 30-Minute Meals. I stopped into the market and took home pure white scrod, some tiny Manila clams, and a little pack of saffron powder as my inspiration. It was so delish that John and I ate it three nights in ten, sharing it with family and friends two of those evenings as the simplest, tastiest way we could think to entertain a crowd. Whether you’re feeding one or some, make a whole pot of this stoup (thicker than soup, thinner than stew), as the leftovers get even better!

This dish comes from Susie Morgenstern, the Judy Blume of France. When she is not writing novels for teenagers or lecturing around France, she is cooking in her marvelous nineteenth-century house, high up in the hills above Nice, overlooking the Mediterranean. When I visited her, she told me I’d need to climb a hundred steps to reach her home. I did, only to find that they were the wrong hundred stairs! So down I went, and up again. But the two climbs were worth it, and I was rewarded with a spectacular view from the house. Although Susie, who greeted me warmly, does not consider herself a good cook, she is known for her Passover Seders, always welcoming people from Nice’s diverse cultures. She learned this Turkish Jewish dish, which marries sautéed parsley with mackerel, from her motherin-law, who came to France from Constantinople. Susie calls it “Red Sea” mackerel because of the red color of the dish. Served at Passover, it evokes the story of the Jews crossing the Red Sea during their exodus from Egypt. When I suggested adding garlic to the dish, Susie paused. “My mother-in-law was no garlic miser, but she didn’t put it in this; there must have been a reason.” This confirms my belief that traditional foods, handed down from generation to generation, are the last to change within a culture.

While in Nice, I had lunch with Irene and Michel Weil at their charming house, with fig trees growing in their garden and nasturtiums on their deck. Although Irene quietly confessed to me that she wasn’t much of a cook, she treated us to a delectable and creative meal. It began with the last tomatoes from their garden served with a little olive oil, sea salt, and a sprinkling of fresh herbs, including mint, basil, and cilantro, from her garden; then we had a Mediterranean dorade royale (sea bream) with preserved lemons, tamarind, and ginger. Comté cheese brought from Michel’s native Besançon, fresh pomegranate seeds from the yellow pomegranates growing in their garden, raspberries, and fresh walnuts in the shell finished the meal, all attractively presented as only the French can do. When I asked about the seasonings for the dorade, Irene said that she loves the flavor contrasts of the preserved lemon, tamarind, and ginger.

The slight tartness of sorrel and the richness of salmon are two flavors that Jews have always loved in their cooking. Eastern European Jews eat cold sorrel soup, which they call tchav; Greek Jews eat a tart rhubarb-and-spinach sauce over fish, and French Jews are drawn to Pierre Troisgros’s now classic salmon with sorrel sauce. Pierre told me that this seminal, simple, and delicious recipe came about because he had grown an abundance of sorrel and had to do something with it. With its subtle interplay of tartness and creaminess, this dish is sometimes made with kosher white wine and vermouth for Jewish weddings held at the restaurant.

In her modern kitchen, with its sleek mauve cabinets and red-and-purple tiles, Annie Berrebi showed me how to make this landmark dish. The stew can be prepped in advance and finished with a few minutes of simmering. Annie often freezes leftover grains of cooked couscous and then pops them into the microwave before using. Unlike Moroccan Jews, who serve their food in courses as the French do, the Berrebis serve everything at once (couscous, salads, and hot sauce). During this absolutely delicious meal, Annie told me, “I miss the sun in Tunis. But I love Paris. We have made our lives here.” You can either serve the couscous, fish balls, and vegetables on different plates, as Mrs. Berrebi does, or, if you want to make a big splash, as I like to do when presenting such a grand dish, pile the couscous in a pyramid on a big serving platter, then arrange the fish balls and the vegetables around it. Ladle the broth all over, and garnish with the cilantro. Pour some extra harissa into a little bowl, and put that on the table alongside cooked salads such as carrot salad (see page 112) or a tomato salad.