Lockdown Edition Week 8: Halibut With Olive Sauce

The book: The Silver Spoon

The recipe: p752, "Halibut With Olive Sauce"

We're back in The Silver Spoon already, but that's fine - it's as big as several regular cookbooks put together. (This recipe, from page 752, is nestled in the middle of the book.) And this week we land in the fish section, so we should theoretically be on track for something more interesting than a spinach salad.

The recipe looks relatively straightforward, falling into the "white fish covered in stuff" category that we've already encountered this year. Although I'm expecting this to be more authentic than Ainsley - if only because the accompanying illustration presents the titular "olive sauce" as a fairly violent-looking black-green splodge against an innocent white fish background, and let's be honest, you wouldn't choose it to look that way unless it tasted good too.

Like with the duck last week, I'm scaling back the portions because I'm not made of money. The recipe "Serves 6", so halving that to "Serves 3" should be about right for the two of us.

The prep: A problem immediately presents itself in the form of an unintended coronavirus consequence. Supermarket fish counters were already becoming less common anyway, but now a lot of them have been closed to free up capacity for other priorities, and understandably so. Trouble is, the cornerstone of this recipe is turbot or, as an alternative, brill or halibut. I'm grateful to The Silver Spoon for giving me three options, but none of these are the kind of thing you get pre-packaged in a supermarket cooler cabinet (and indeed it feels like sourcing the titular turbot would be a bit of a stretch even at the best of times). I decide to aim for halibut, as that seems the most likely find under the circumstances - but either way it's going to require a bit of Google work to locate the nearest decent fishmonger (I know there's usually a fish stall at Lewisham market, but whether they're open right now is not something the internet is willing to answer for me).

It might sound odd but I've never really shopped at a fishmonger's before. There was one downstairs from where I used to work in Germany, but I never bought fresh fish from there, preferring the decent approximation of English-style battered fish and chips they had on their lunch menu. And even back before the supermarkets muscled in on every aspect of food shopping, I mainly remember us getting our fresh fish from a van that came round the mean streets of Gosforth (including some scraps for the cat, naturally).

As such, I'm almost feeling a little intimidated by the prospect of rocking up with no real expertise ("so is it x, y or z that you need?" "erm, I don't know, I chose this recipe using a random number generator on the internet"). So I'm pleased to say the search ends up taking me to Greenwich, and a very nice place just off Royal Hill that sets me up with a substantial cross-section of halibut that should yield four decently-sized portions.

Hefty

The Greenwich fishmonger is also Greenwich fishmonger-priced, but life is basically just a series of cancellations of plans and refunds of travel tickets right now, so I figure I might as well indulge in something.

On the walk back, I realise that this is by far the furthest I've been from home other than for exercise since mid-March, and I've been a little on edge as a result. I'm not sure why, really - the sun is shining, the shopping experience was smooth and friendly (minimal wait time, in and out in a couple of minutes, concise and non-patronising advice, everything contact-free), and I've even managed to get precisely what I required for this dish, which is never a given in Random Kitchen world. Maybe I'm just unnerved by the sheer number of hand-holding couples hogging the pavements and forcing me into the road. Anyway, hopefully this stuff will start to feel a bit more normal again soon. And I suppose actually getting out there and doing it is the best way to start achieving that.

So what else do I need? Black olives and pine nuts are already in the house thanks to my new-found salad habit (don't worry, I'm okay), I'm cautiously substituting the requisite shallot for a small amount of onion, and Asda is happy enough to supply me with canned anchovy fillets and flat-leaf parsley for the occasion.

At last, a use for those Gü ramekins

The only other complication is "concentrated fish stock", for which The Silver Spoon refers me to another page. The recipe on that page demands that I start with a kilogram of fish heads. Reader, I do not make the fish stock. The shelves of the Greenwich fishmonger boast pre-made stock in a handy pouch instead, and I've never been one to look a gift halibut in the mouth.

The making: I start by heating some butter - allowing my one-egg frying pan to make a welcome return appearance - and cooking some pine nuts "for a few minutes until golden brown, stirring frequently". Now, I've learned from bitter experience that golden brown can become outright burnt in the blink of an eye where pine nuts are concerned, and indeed a moment of unattentiveness causes me to need a second run at what should be a fairly simple task.

Lucky pine nuts aren't weirdly expensive for what they are

Next, an anchovy fillet goes into the food processor along with the olives, parsley, onion and a tablespoon or two of the stock (no fear of waste, I intend to use the rest in an improved kedgeree). Once this is all blitzed together, I slowly pour in some olive oil with the blade still running until a "smooth sauce" is achieved. This is a relative term where my aging Kenwood is concerned, but I'm pleased to note that the end result looks similar to the illustration above - i.e. pretty disgusting.

Hey, the main ingredient is black olives, it was never going to be especially photogenic.

That done, I realise that I still need to cut the fish into portions and the oven has already reached 200°C. Oh well, it'll just have to wait. It's only one of the hottest days of the year so far, it's all good. Being an ignoramus on such matters, I quickly fire up both Google and YouTube to see exactly what the advice is on halibut skin. The general consensus seems to be "it's not edible but you don't have to remove it for cooking". Regardless, I err on the side of caution, resulting in four slightly battered and misshapen fish portions that would probably have retained their shape a bit better if I'd gone with the skin-on variant. Still, the flesh is meaty enough to survive this manhandling, and I suppose that's a part of what you pay for.

The fish goes into a buttered dish, the sauce is smeared over it, and into the oven it goes! "20 minutes", the recipe says. These portions are a little smaller so I make it more like 15.

The recipe concludes with a recommendation: "Boiled or steamed potatoes make an excellent side dish." (That's good advice for life generally, to be honest.) While I don't have my preferred dill or chives in the house and I'm not making a non-essential trip to the shop for the sake of some herbs, there's plenty of parsley left over from earlier, and that'll do well enough for a summery side. Add in some Greek yoghurt, olive oil, Dijon mustard and red wine vinegar, and this ends up being a perfectly acceptable way to pimp up some warm salad potatoes.

That all being done, the fish comes out of the oven, the pine nuts are lovingly sprinkled across the serving dish, and we're ready to go!

The eating: "You eat with your eyes first", or so the saying goes. There's truth in that, of course, but thankfully it's not the whole truth or this dish would be something of a failure.

Don't get me wrong: it actually looks reasonably professional (by my modest standards), and serving it with just one side gives it a "proper" feel compared with my penchant for packing each plate as full as possible with greens and other things. But ultimately it is just some portions of plain white fish with some black-green goop on top.

The good news - great news, really, considering my fear of making an expensive mess - is that the fish is perfectly cooked, juicy and meaty, and even the olive goop is rather nice! It's not as strong as the vivid/unappealing colour might suggest - if anything, it's almost on the subtle side, and I'd be tempted to up the anchovy content next time to give it a bit more oomph - but there's plenty of flavour in there to please the palate without the whole thing only tasting of olives like I feared. Meanwhile, they may have taken two goes to get right, but the pine nuts are a surprisingly inspired addition in terms of both bite and flavour.

And the potatoes are indeed an "excellent side dish" - but when aren't they?

Another minor victory, then. I'm giving The Silver Spoon two thumbs up this week. Not only has it delivered a successful dinner, but it's made me go out of my comfort zone a bit - both geographically and in terms of actually shopping for fresh fish without making a complete arse of myself. Take that, adult life!

Two-word verdict: Reassuringly good.