Hideous but fashionable
Simon Courtauld
In the beginning was the angler-fish, so called because of the fishing rod or aerial on top of its head which, with a piece of tissue on the end serving as bait, waves above the sand in which the fish is lurking and attracts smaller fish to within devouring distance. It was a hideous fish which the cat would consent to eat if nothing better were offered, but it was not generally acknowledged in this country as fit for human consumption. Angler-fish does not rate a mention from Mrs Beeton or Constance Spry, or from Elizabeth David in her books on Mediterranean and French cooking. Then — in which year or even which decade I cannot discover — the angler-fish disappeared and was reinvented as the monkfish. It is still the same fish, with the same ugly, flat head, wide mouth, fearsomely sharp teeth and Mick Jagger-like lips, though it seems to lose its fishing rod before appearing on a fishmonger's slab. But it is no longer considered to be cat food: it is fashionable and its tail end is sold everywhere in Europe for about E6 a pound.
Seeking, as we lawyers say, further and better particulars. I have read that the tails have long been prized by the Venetians, but around most of the Mediterranean it was only those huge heads that were used, for making fish soup. In Spain today the heads may still be bought separately for this purpose, and inevitably — since the Spaniards love their fish small (and often illegally undersized) — there is a demand for little monkfish, known as rapecitos.
It was while staying in southern France last year that. instructed to buy some monkfish (forte) in the local Carrefour supermarket, I saw, alongside the pile of slippery fish tails, a mound of what was labelled as foie de low. Unable to resist this unheard-of delicacy, I bought the liver and we sauteed it briefly in butter and mixed it with salad leaves. Our host pronounced it to be so good that he said he would recommend it should be served on toast as a savoury at the London club of which he was chairman.
I cannot claim to be a great fan of monkfish. It has the advantage, I know, of having only one bone, its flesh is firm and it goes well with a variety of flavours. But its tail also has a membrane which takes some removing, and the reason it is said to be so good with garlic, herbs, tomatoes, mushrooms, olives, etc. is that it doesn't taste of much without some sort of assistance. Recently I tried monkfish baked in a sauce of thickened fish stock and saffron, which was delicious, but the dish was only as good as the sauce that went with it. Larousse calls this fish 'somewhat tasteless', and Rick Stein is none too polite about its flavour. A few days old and it can be reminiscent of cotton-wool; Stein likens it to India rubber.
It may be that I have never eaten monkfish straight from the sea, thinly sliced and cooked in olive oil over charcoal, which some people get very excited about. Others advise stuffing the fish with garlic and roasting it in the oven, like a leg of lamb. But I think I would rather have the lamb, and at about half the price.
While on the subject of ugly fish, John Dory comes readily to mind. I cannot believe its name is a corruption of jaune doree (who could have thought of this weird-looking, mottled grey fish as gilded yellow?), and anyway the French call it Saint-Pierre, after the thumbmarks (similar to last month's haddock) of St Peter, made when he held the fish to extract a coin from its mouth to pay his and Jesus's taxes.
Once you have got rid of the outsize head and various fins, the fillets of John Dory may be rather small but, grilled or fried, they have an excellent flavour. There is an old Devon recipe which involves frying the fillets, skin side up, having dipped them in seasoned flour. Chopped herbs and lemon juice are added and the fish should then be simmered in cider and cream. Despite its looks this is a proper fish, without the slightly ersatz quality of that other uncouth fish of uncertain name.
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