The first creature, a standard round fish called barramundi, was pretty straightforward. We've butchered these types of fish multiple times now, so it didn't take long for me to nip out the gills, chop off the head, make some slits and work out the fillets, one on each side of the body. I put the fillets aside, de-bearded a bunch of mussels and de-veined a handful of shrimp. The recipe called for us to make a lobster stock for the base of the sauce, which was not surprising at all and wouldn't be too complicated. It was, however, the majority of steps in the recipe, so we gathered our mise en place for the stock and got ready to start. I couldn't find the tomato paste, so I asked Chef where it was stored in this new kitchen. "Oh, the lobster stock is already made for you, it's simmering over in the corner." Now, these were words I thought I'd never hear, as stocks are usually our responsibility for our own dishes (with the exception of veal and beef stock, which take about 8 hours to make). This notion didn't seem to sink in, so I said, "Ok, well is the tomato paste in the refrigerator or the cabinet?" "You don't need tomato, it's already made for you…it's the big pot simmering in the corner marked 'lobster stock'." Hmm, now that's strange, I could have sworn I heard Chef say the lobster stock was already made for us…that's so silly, ha ha ha. I must be dehydrated. Sure enough, the big pot simmering in the corner did in fact hold lobster stock, which made our dish unbelievably easy. We reduced it to full flavor, added it to some sweated shallots and mixed in a little double cream. We pureed the mix to make it super soft and silky, put it back on the fire and poached the barramundi fillets, shrimp and mussels in the sauce. When each piece was cooked we removed it and placed it prettily in a warm bowl, doused the whole thing with the pink/red sauce and garnished it with some cooked potatoes and parsley. Delicious! It almost tastes like lobster bisque with mixed seafood, and having the lobster stock already done made it unbelievable easy.
The next dish involved a pan-fried skate wing. Skate is…scary and gross. It looks like a smaller cousin to the stingray, and the slime that comes off of that thing is out of a horror movie. As I was handling the wing (the skate was split down the middle, so each team got a half), I kept hearing a quartet playing an ominous and macabre tune, like the audience knew something I didn't, and I half expected the thing to come alive and spear me with its razor sharp spikes. It didn't even look God-made, nevertheless edible. Its skin was so rubbery and slick, my sharp fillet knife wouldn't even cut through it. I ended up cutting the perimeter with my kitchen shears, and slowly working my way down its ribcage to release the fillet. Every few minutes or so I felt a spike attempt to spear through my palm; thank goodness there was a layer of brown-slimed rubber glove in between.
After the whole skate experience, I'm a little weary of the unknown creatures of the sea. Like I said, always new experiences at the French Culinary Institute…some are slimey, some are salty, some are bloody and some are just plain gross.
Great job - I think you are so brave.
ReplyDelete