Trout

The jots of coast and whatever sea fish they might offer have little embellished the Lucanian cuisine, yet the fat, brown trout from her rivers and lakes are coveted, stalked. The most characteristic prescription for their cooking is to scent them with the wild herbs one finds near the water, stuff them with a few crushed olives, wrap them in a slice of pancetta, and roast them, on site, over a beech or chestnut wood fire.

Rainbow trout is a delicious option for fish-loving home cooks. It’s available year-round and won’t break the bank even when you want to feed a crowd. Have your fishmonger bone and butterfly the trout for you, leaving the tail intact and keeping the two fillets attached on the fin side. This preparation is a study in contrasts, a three-way complement to the flaky flesh of the trout. The blushing sweet-tart sauce is made with both crushed grapes and verjus, the juice of unripe wine grapes. (The French used verjus in medieval and Renaissance times in much the same way we use vinegar or lemon juice today.) Less acidic and more complex than most vinegar, the verjus’s refreshing fruitiness plays counterpoint to the salty cured Italian bacon wrapped around the trout. And finally, hidden within this lively package: rich, herbaceous sorrel cream, bringing us back to earth.

You will need a smoker that can be controlled or a grill and a chip box for this recipe and a supply of maple wood or maple wood chips.

We never went hungry as kids. And we have no inherent fear of the next Great Depression or anxiety about canned food. Still, we always want more. Wanting and eating four of the Swedish shrimp-egg things you can buy in the restaurant at IKEA is a good example of that. Another good example is how we would have piled more stuff on this modest toast if we could have fit it: a can of sardines from Bretagne, maybe, or quails stuffed with crab hiding in the corner. Our first reaction on seeing this photo was, “Shit, we forgot clams.” There are thirty items here, and if we do another book, we will put in sixty, we promise (just so we don’t run out of food). Disclaimer: In no way do we aspire or pretend to serve authentic Scandinavian food. This is just our view projected onto a classic. The closest we have been to Scandinavia is Fred Heimlich-maneuvering a Dane who choked on the biggest oyster ever eaten raw. And it was a weird experience because it was like they kissed; they were shy around each other for the rest of the evening. In the list that follows, an asterisk means a recipe is included. If there’s no *, it means the item is straightforward and you can figure it out. We suggest serving the items on rye bread or a baguette sliced lengthwise and buttered. You then eat your open-faced sandwich with a fork and knife. Or, you can do as we do: add condiments and eat it like a military strategist, portioning, placing, moving, and rationing. Regarding yields: the smorgasbord is more of a concept than a straightforward recipe. The smorgasbord shown here serves 4 to 6, and includes every single thing listed. You don’t have to follow our lead (though we would be pleased). Typically we put 4 or 5 proteins and 4 or 5 condiments on the average smorgasbord. Following this rule, each of the small recipes serves four.

At the winery, we are always looking for enticing finger foods that our guests can enjoy comfortably with a glass of wine in hand. This hors d’oeuvre from Memphis chef Wally Joe, devised at the 2004 Workshop, passes that test. Piped or spooned onto endive leaves, the mousse makes an easily passed hors d’oeuvre. The mousse’s creamy texture and smoky notes find an echo in our Napa Valley Chardonnay, and the apple garnish provides another aromatic link.

Everyone knows about sweet crêpes (page 645), but visitors to France quickly become addicted to these—the classic snack food of Brittany—especially the ham-and-cheese variation. Traditionally, the batter sits for an hour before starting to cook. As long as you plan ahead a bit, that shouldn’t be a problem. But in a pinch you can skip the resting period—it doesn’t make too much difference—and overall these are easy to make and great as savory starters or a light lunch or supper.

These hand rolls are a simple and healthful do-it-yourself meal: you assemble the ingredients and invite guests to do the rest. It is a relaxing experience, with everyone making their own hand rolls, eating, sipping cold beverages, and chatting. In Vietnam, freshwater ca loc (snakehead fish) is often used for this dish, encased in clay and roasted in rice straw, wrapped in banana leaf and grilled over charcoal, or just placed directly on the grill. I prefer the simplicity of the last approach. Trout is the perfect substitute for ca loc, as its sweet flesh stands up well to grilling. The skin crisps wonderfully, too.

This dish is Louisiana all the way. Crawfish are eaten in other states, to be sure, but no one is as passionate about these crustaceans as are Louisianans. And rightfully so; the state is responsible for producing more than 80 percent of the world’s crawfish! Crawfish look like tiny, clawless lobsters, and though they are not directly related, their taste is similar. The lobster stock in the rich, creamy sauce enhances that similarity. Sweet trout fillets get an old-fashioned cornmeal crust and are panfried to a light golden brown before being set down on a pool of the pink sauce.

This fresh and satisfying salad gets its inspiration from two very different locales: the sweet and sour dressing is indebted to the Pennsylvania Dutch, while the fried green tomatoes come straight from the South. The brightly hued dressing is just the thing to enhance the interplay of tart green tomatoes; sweet, earthy beets; buttery fava beans; and tangy, creamy goat cheese. Green tomatoes and fava beans are two crops that I particularly look forward to seeing at the first farmers’ markets of spring, and this salad is a delicious way to celebrate the best of that season. If you can’t find fava beans, lima beans are a fair substitute.

These delicate, pale-green avocado pancakes come from my former big-city life as executive pastry chef at Anthony’s, owned by Tony Vallone, one of Houston’s top restaurateurs. The recipe for these savory pancakes was shared by a sous chef there, and I fell in love with them. We served them with crab and pico de gallo. In this version, I top them with homemade crème fraîche and trout caviar, a gorgeous, orange, medium-grained roe. (It is also more reasonably priced than many caviars and sustainably raised.) Incredibly simple, the pancakes must be made at the last minute and served warm.

Some of my favorite sandwiches need very little prep work, just the right combination of top-notch ingredients. This is one of them. Dark bread, smoky fish, tart apple, and complex Gouda make magic together. All you have to do is slice, spread, cut, eat, and smile.

I’m such a purist about some things—I think all food people are. Tell me you’re putting beans and tomatoes in chili, and the Texas boy in me bristles. But when one of my friends, an Israeli man of Norwegian heritage, came to a pizza-tasting party and—before he sampled it, I should note—declared this pizza combination “wrong, just wrong,” why did it irritate me so much? Well, I suppose it’s because I’m neither Norwegian nor Italian, so I couldn’t understand why something so delicious could be anything but right. This combination was inspired by a pizza that friends told me I had to try from Coppi’s Organic in Washington, D.C. I’ve taken shameless liberties with it.

The taste of homemade smoked trout is incomparable, making this recipe well worth the effort. Trout, like all fish, must be brined before smoking, so plan on several hours’ worth of brining time before you actually do the smoking. Unlike salmon, trout is hot smoked. Obviously, you’ll need a smoker for this recipe. The choice of wood is up to you: At Bubby’s, we strictly use apple wood. Once you’ve got smoked trout on hand, you may serve it as is or make it into some delicious Smoked Trout Cakes (page 195), a Smoked Trout Scramble (page 101), or Smoked Trout and Scallion Mousse (page 196). Figure that you need to start this recipe about five hours in advance. The salmon is best when smoked the day before you plan to serve it, so that the flavors can blend. To serve, cut the smoked trout into fairly large 2-inch chunks and arrange them as part of a smoked fish platter, along with Smoked Salmon (page 191) and herring (page 196).

A smoky and appealing cousin of the crab cake, these are excellent served on their own, perhaps as part of a salad, or alongside one of Bubby’s egg dishes.

Make this ahead of time so it has time to chill, and store it, well wrapped, in the refrigerator. It’s great for sandwiches or spreading on crackers. It goes well on a brunch table with other fish options, such as pickled herring. If you’re making tea sandwiches, top with Horseradish Cream (page 157).

A fresh take on the deli favorite, smoked whitefish salad, this version is full of herbs and dressed up by sweet cherry tomatoes. Smoked fish is salty, so you may not need to salt the purée. The fillets contain tiny bones, but as a general rule, the smallest ones are soft and edible. Rainbow or golden trout farmed in the United States is a recommended seafood choice because unlike many carnivorous farmed fish—which eat more protein than they provide to humans—trout efficiently convert their feed into protein. What’s more, rainbow and golden trout are mostly farm-raised in tanks, so there is little risk of them contaminating wild populations.

Several years ago, my girlfriend Becky and I were traveling in the Alps and went through the Saint Bernard Pass from France to Italy, stopping in Valle d’Aosta. We laughed the whole time we were there, as we called it Valdosta, a South Georgia town near the Florida border better known more for pine, pulpwood, and turpentine than Roman ruins and fine cheeses. The first evening, Becky and I went out for dinner, wandering the ancient, winding cobblestone streets looking for a restaurant that seemed inviting. We found one. Thinking of the wooded forests nearby, I ordered rabbit. I should have been thinking of the crystal clear streams of melted snow. Becky ordered trout. They brought it to the table whole, on the bone. The waiter then proceeded to fillet it at the table. When done, he asked if she would like it drizzled with olive oil. It was a revelation. Trout is a very user-friendly fish to grill. Not only does its tough, leathery skin help keep the fish from falling apart, but it also insulates the flesh from the direct heat of the grill. This is the time to break out your best extra-virgin olive oil. The smoky, herb-infused fish just needs a little kiss of liquid gold.

Capers are the preserved unopened flower buds of a prickly shrub native to the Mediterranean. The shrubs thrive on rocky cliffs of arid regions, including southern France and Sicily, where they are farmed as a cash crop. Salted capers are hand-harvested then cured and aged in sea salt. This process preserves the intense floral tones, herbal flavor, and firm texture of the buds. Brined capers are soaked in saltwater, then packed in brine or a mixture of brine and vinegar, which dulls the flavor. The salted capers tend to be a little more expensive, but are hand-harvested and worth every penny. While working for Epicurious television, I was able to travel to Italy to do a story on salted capers. Standing on the rocky hillside of an island, looking out over the sun-drenched Mediterranean, watching the peasant women harvesting the capers by hand while chattering in their local dialect, was pure poetry. When I returned to the States, I was reviewing the rough cut, which is a very basic edit of footage, a visual rough draft. A colleague who spoke Italian interrupted, “Wait a minute, play that back.” Turned out the pleasant chatter was not as idyllic as the scenery. One of the women was talking about her son-in-law, whom she called a worthless bastard and car thief. We decided to replace their conversation with a little music.

Almost all of the ingredients in this dish are native to North America, including the chili powder, making it a truly American dish with a hint of the Southwest. The amount of chili powder used is only enough to give the fish a little bite of heat. Add more or less according to your preference. Or use fresh, diced chiles instead. Try this recipe with salmon, halibut, or other kinds of fish. Or substitute chicken breasts, turkey, or pork tenderloin for the fish.