Halibut

This recipe from Georgeanne Brennan shows a classic way to cook in a tajine, layering flavors and food together for the slow, moist cooking. It includes the Moroccan sauce sharmula, which gives a spicy flavor and adds moisture to the fish during the cooking. You can make many variations on this dish, substituting chicken for fish or tomatoes and eggplant for artichokes.

This combination of sweet, succulent halibut and spring vegetables in a golden saffron broth is visually seductive, while the earthy fragrance of saffron, favas, and mushrooms is intoxicating! Paula Wolfert’s easy method of preparing fava beans makes this dish much easier to prepare.

Once Kallipolis—“beautiful city” in Greek—Gallipoli is a tumult of white-chalked abodes heaped up under a feverish sun. A fishing village three thousand years ago and now—after its episodes with pirates and slavish dominions, its risings and its fallings—it is a fishing village still. Affixed to the newer town by a bridge, its oldest quarter is a quaint islet in the Ionian. And it was there that we first saw Rosaria. It was in the pescheria (fish market). It was the late-afternoon market where the day’s second catch—and what might have remained from the morning, at a smaller price—was offered. Admiring her confidence, her stroll over the slippery, sea-washed stones of the market floor, inspecting the gleanings—silently, unerringly, one thought—and transacting prices with the fishmongers only with her eyes. When she was convinced by something, she pulled coins and bills from a small pouch hung around her like a necklace, then positioned the parcels in a basket she carried atop her head, leaving her small, elegant hands free to repose on her hips, to move in agreement or discord or exclamation. We dared to ask her the names of the more exotic offerings and, so encouraged by her gently spoken responses, we opened discourse on the celebrated fish soup of Gallipoli. Through her laugh, she told us that the allure of the soup seemed perplexing to her. It was, after all, a potful of humble fish. Nearly everyone cooked it, in one form or another, every day. “We cook what the sea gives up to us. It’s our garden,” she said. She told us she had cooked the soup for as long as she could remember, and that the perfumes of it being cooked by her mother and grandmother were older yet in her sensual memory. She volunteered news of her evening’s program and said we might join her if we wished. She was to prepare a supper for three old friends, widows all, and molto simpatiche—most pleasant. She said we might meet her at 7:45 in front of Sant’ Agata. Timid, pleased, we sealed our agreement. By then, the weak February sun was readying itself to slide into the sea, rosying the clouds in its path, bedazzling them in washes of gold. We watched her climb the curling road farther up into the old town until her narrow, top-lofty form melted into sweet lilac dusk. We looked at the last of the sunset from the terrace of a little bar, adding jackets and sweaters and scarves against the winds, sipping at red wine, imagining what would be our evening with her. We found her in front of the cathedral and, following her the few meters to her door, were welcomed into her apartment in whose parlor we sat whilst she collected, arranged the soup’s elements. Only then did she invite us into the kitchen. First, though, the ceremony of gli aperitivi—cold, pink wine poured into small, rounded crystal cups. Then was Rosaria ready to dance. She set about by whacking the filleted fish—sea bass and red hogfish—into great chunks; she warmed oil in an old coccio, adding garlic, onion, and crushed salt anchovies. In the scented oil, she deftly browned the fish—removing it to await the second act—adding fat prawns, heads removed, tails intact, and rolled them about, flourishing her wooden spatula with a sort of spare drama and sending forth great sea-scented mists. She made the sauce by adding peeled, seeded, chopped tomatoes and white wine. After ten minutes or so, she reunited fish to sauce, rubbing peperoncini—I saw three for certain, but there might have been four— between her fingers into the pot and leaving the soup to gently simmer while she fried trenchers of rough bread in sizzling oil. I flashed a moment upon the contortions I’d suffered to build a bouillabaisse, one whose directions filled more pages than a play by Pirandello. I thought, too, to the flushed, moist faces of cooks—spent, brokenwinded&mdash...

Savory is possibly the most underappreciated herb in this country. I fell in love with it many years back when I was cooking in France. There, it’s used in the traditional seasoning mix herbes de Provence and added to all types of stews, ragoûts, and sauces. Its aroma—earthy, slightly sweet, and a little bit peppery—reminds me of the brush-covered hillsides where we played growing up. Winter savory, summer savory’s seasonal opposite, is more robust in flavor but would be a fine substitute in this recipe. If you can’t find either of the savories, substitute a combination of equal amounts of thyme, rosemary, and mint. This isn’t a difficult dish to make, but it does require some last-minute multitasking. Have your prepared ingredients—or, as we say in the kitchen, your mise en place—ready to go. Be sure that your herbs are chopped, the vinaigrette is made, the crème fraîche is mixed, and your seasonings are in reach. This dish is a great way to initiate the unconverted to the Church of the Fava Bean. The potatoes and favas are mashed together with butter and finished with pea shoots and a vibrant Meyer lemon salsa. The seared halibut goes on top with a dollop of savory crème fraîche.

The colored beets and bright green arugula in this dish make for a visually stunning presentation. The sweet roasted beets marinated in lemon vinaigrette play off the pure white fish and horseradish cream. Look for a few different types of beets, such as golden beets and Chioggia beets, and dress them separately, so the dark ones don’t bleed their juices onto the lighter ones. In the spring, you could make this dish with wild salmon. And to make a more hearty meal, serve some beluga lentils on the side (see page 331).

This invigorating dish is a refreshing change from the hearty comfort foods of winter. The herbs here aren’t relegated to the sidelines; tossed with arugula, they become the main attractions of this bright salad. Meyer lemons are diced with their peels on and combined with green olives, champagne vinegar, honey, and olive oil for a bracing sweet-tart salsa to accompany the grilled halibut.

This warm salad is pure southern France: tomatoes, olives, anchovies, basil, green beans, and soft-cooked eggs. It’s easy to make, but it helps to do some of the steps beforehand. As long as your spinach is cleaned and your haricots verts, potatoes, and eggs are cooked, you won’t have to do much until the last minute, when you’re pulling it all together. While your potatoes are roasting in the oven, light the grill, have a glass of rosé, and look calm, cool, and collected as you wait to finish the last-minute tasks. Recruit an unsuspecting guest or your significant other to grill the halibut while you brown the anchovy butter and finish the warm salad.

Puttanesca isn't just for pasta. Anchovies and olives punch up a sauce hearty enough to stand up to meat or fish.

Who better to provide a cioppino recipe than Jesse Llapitan, the executive chef of San Francisco’s Palace Hotel, the city’s grande dame? Every San Franciscan puts his or her own stamp on this rustic fisherman’s stew, but the Dungeness crab is nonnegotiable. Chef Llapitan attended the 2005 Workshop.

Seasoned with chorizo, dried oregano, and cilantro, this deconstructed fish stew tastes like the specialty of some upscale restaurant in Mexico City. But it came to Cakebread Cellars from one of Denver’s foremost chefs, Kevin Taylor, a 1997 Workshop participant. For a dinner party, you can make the tomato broth a couple of hours ahead, stopping after you add the cooked chorizo and potatoes. Then all you need to do at dinner time is steam the fish on this flavorful base. You could add some clams or shrimp to the pot as well.

Inspired by the simplicity and purity of Japanese sashimi, American chefs are exploring the world of seafood crudo (Italian for raw). Typically, crudo is accompanied by Mediterranean garnishes like capers and olive oil rather than the soy-based dipping sauce that is served with sashimi. At the 2005 Workshop, Florida chef James Reaux made a beautiful halibut crudo with chive oil, using the abundant chives in the winery garden. For raw preparations such as this one, the seafood must be impeccably fresh.

IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST, halibut season begins in March and lasts until late summer, but halibut cheeks are a delicacy with which few people are familiar. Halibut cheeks have a distinctive texture, almost like a scallop, and they’re more forgiving than the fillets or steaks in terms of cooking time. While other cuts are easily overcooked, halibut cheeks still taste delicious with a few extra minutes of cooking time. Although halibut cheeks can be found in most fish shops and in the frozen food sections of many grocery stores nationwide, if you can’t find them, substitute halibut fillets cut into 3-ounce pieces. Halibut cheeks vary greatly in size; the smaller ones have more flavor. Serve three small cheeks per person. Adjust accordingly if you’re using larger cheeks.

THE DELICATE FLAVORS OF COD shine when the fish is cooked in a light and flavorful broth. Served chilled, it is perfect for a warm summer evening. When the cod is served with a grain or plain steamed rice, the vinaigrette becomes the sauce.

THIS IS A NORTHWEST TAKE ON THE CLASSIC SURF AND TURF, but instead of steak I like to include another fish. Halibut and salmon make a great combination because they have complementary flavors, cooking times, and thickness. (If you can get Alaskan halibut, even better.) Grilled on a cedar plank and served with fresh pesto, the fish have flavors that really pop. You can use any untreated cedar board to cook the fish. Cookware stores sell rather thick planks, but some big box hardware stores and large grocery stores sell thinner untreated cedar planks in the barbecue department.

WHY IT’S LIGHT For a shore dinner you can make anywhere, wrap shrimp, cod, pototoes, and corn in “hobo packs” and cook them on the grill. The food steams inside, with only a half tablespoon butter per serving.

WHY IT’S LIGHT This dish only sounds indulgent. It stays trim by combining a modest piece of bacon-wrapped fish with a generous salad. Thick fillets of any firm, flaky, and mild fish, such as halibut, haddock, or striped bass, would work well here.

I have eaten more than my share of fish tacos while living in Baja. But the beach is a half-hour drive from my house, so I was on a mission to find a fish taco recipe that I could make at home—one that was as delicious and authentic as the taco they serve at my favorite Rosarito taco shack. This is what I came up with—and I’m happy to say it competes!

If you’re in the mood for a light but filling dish, look no further. Halibut is low in fat but delicate, sweet, and flaky, and it embraces the flavors of most anything you pair it with. I like to marinate and then roast halibut before serving it on top of a colorful, warm spring salad of peas and mint. This is my kind of food.

This is one of those recipes in which the shopping may take you longer than the cooking, because fennel stalks—or those from dill, which are nearly as good—are often discarded by grocers. When you buy a bulb of fennel, you’re buying the bottom, trimmed of its long stalks; when you buy a bunch of dill, you’re buying the feathery tops, trimmed of the stalks that support them. Because this recipe requires some of those stalks, you will probably have to speak directly to a produce manager, visit a farmstand or a friend’s garden, or simply get lucky. The technique of grilling fish on top of fennel or dill stalks solves a couple of problems at once: it seasons the fish subtly and without effort, and it helps prevent the fish from sticking to the grill and falling apart. In fact, this method allows you to grill even relatively delicate fillets like cod, usually one of the most challenging fishes to grill because of its tendency to fall apart as it nears doneness.

If you have forgotten how delicious a fillet of fish can be, do this: Steam it, with nothing. Drizzle it with olive oil and lemon. Sprinkle it with salt. Eat it. If the number of ingredients and technique are minimal, the challenge is not. You need a high-quality and uniformly thick piece of fish to begin with, your timing must be precise—which is all a matter of attention and judgment, really—and your olive oil flavorful. That taken care of, there is no better or easier preparation.