Imperative cooking: A fishy outing
GETTING TIRED of the even more tired northern waters white fish that fill so many local English fishmongers' slabs? I have found a source of fresh Gulf of Mexico fish, huge snappers, vermillons, trigger fish, amberjack. And I mean fresh in both senses, fresh not frozen and fresh just out of the sea. Indeed, Mrs A and I have just demolished several prime specimens, grilled on charcoal, raw in lime, in fillets with fresh tomato and basil, pounded into cakes with crab meat.
Where to find them? As so often, the answer was obvious but had never occurred to me. It does involve a bit of an outing but then Imperative cooks enjoy outings. Take the 9.55 from London to Houston. Pick up a car. Head south on Route 59 till just after Victoria, then take the 239 to Tivoli and 37 to Port Aransas on the Gulf coast. Stay at the Lone Palm or one of the many motels with a fish-cleaning house and kitchens. You should be there by 6 p.m., just in time for drinks. Have that drink on the port a couple of minutes away, and nip into Deep Sea Headquarters and book yourself on to the next day's 7.30 boat.
You are not a fisherman? Don't worry. This is fishing quite unlike anything in Blighty. For one thing, everyone is inter- ested in catching fish to eat. For another, lots of lady chaps go (all English fisher- men are misogynists). For another, it's easy. And they make it even easier. They provide a rod (called a 'pole') and bait. They gaff and land large and awkward fish for you and untangle lines when sharks or other lively fish tangle them up. What you do is sit comfortably for a fast ride two hours out into the Gulf. They know where the fish are, and when they anchor the boat, or let it drift over a wreck, you put your line down to the bot- tom and three minutes later start reeling them in.
You keep doing that for some three hours, sitting out on the blue, blue sea in the sun — beer and sandwiches available (Imperative cooks should take their own wine) — until you've caught all you want and some more.
And what fish! They are almost all good- tasting and firm-fleshed and big. For instance, snappers under about two pounds are thrown back. The ones you take home weigh anything from three to 30Ib. Two hours more back to port, chatting about the day's plunder and drooling about the many ways to cook it. Then, two minutes to the Lone Palm. At the end of the motel is a fish-cleaning house with blocks, sinks and water where you will gut, scale and, if you have caught whoppers, fil- let and slice away for an hour. The boat returns by 3 p.m., so you are finished easily by 5.
A wash, a change, then off for aperitivos. Before you go, light the charcoal or wood — near the fish house, then the embers are ready for use on return. This is lime and ceviche country too — Texas, for those as weak on geography as I am, is next to Mexi- co. It's also America's large-prawn coast and a source of oysters and blue crabs. All three you will buy live from the boats. The shop next to the hotel sells olive oil, flour, reasonable local rice for fish and rice dishes (all those heads make good stock) and Texan wine. Don't touch the cheap white, but the cabernet sauvignon red is fine for a few days if you, like the Frogs, enjoy red with fish.
But even if your own catch is a modest 20 to 30 lb, it should keep you going for three or four days till you return home. Indeed, you may have too much. But never fear: while the hotel's own cat does not come out at night — apparently he finds it too warm and is addicted to the air-conditioning there is a local lady tortoiseshell. She is called Morganna — this is pirate coast too, Lafitte and all that — and she has six friends who will polish off any remains.
Do not let her have the very last remains. You will need something for the flight. I suggest an amplified ceviche with strips of vermilion and prawns sliced finely with cucumber and tomato (both salted, drained and finely chopped), jalapeiios, Southern violet onions, lime and olive oil. Make some home-made bread in the kitchen oven. That, plus a few of BA's rather good methode champenoise and a temazepam 10 mg should see you back to London in fine form.
When to go? Not after June: it's too hot. Not in the winter: the place is full of Win- ter Texans, oldies from the north who win- ter in the south. Above all, not in March, when young people on college 'breaks' come and ride round in the back of pick-up trucks. I should go now.
Digby Anderson
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