Crunchy Caper Creamy Mahi-Mahi

I can vividly remember flounder fishing in a yacht club marina while my father was “extra-earning” his weekends doing maintenance on Chris-Craft vessels in Port Washington, New York. Before the invention of modern plastic resins, refinishing teak woodwork was his thing. While my dad worked, we would stay entertained catching “Tommy” cods and lots of flounders. Our bait was usually sliced sections of the sandworms savored by the sweet flounders below the water’s surface, our legs dangling off the dock. These worms have nasty protective pincers that valiantly try to pierce you before you dismember them, and they’ve probably inspired many a sci-fi writer to create relatives of gargantuan proportion (I always wanted to use that word). Catching, not fishing, was the order of the afternoon.

The order of the evening was my mom cleaning those tasty aquarian refugees sacrificed by Poseidon to feed our family. Buckets of “remains” always ended up underneath my mother’s rose bushes in the backyard. To this day, I still have a memory of how fragrantly her roses blossomed, knowing the stank and guts that fed their roots. You give some, you get some.

And indeed, I got some. The pleasure of learning about fishing, later scuba diving, and always cooking what I can catch. Flounder, salmon, striped bass, bluefish “snappers,” grouper, cod, halibut in Alaska (cheeks are the best), hogfish and of course, mahi-mahi, to name a few. Recipes go with them all. I can’t begin to figure out how many dolphin I have filleted. (No, not Flipper, “dolphin” fish). Years of pre-dawn rides on my buddy’s 30-foot “Moms Dusky,” Islamorada jaunts, Bimini trips and “catching” with family friends the Gandys all gave me the experience to handle catching, cleaning and cooking mahi-mahi as a proper Floridian should know – or get to know from reading this.

That’s the beauty about how I learned to cook, experiencing adventures right at the source of the meal. Fishing is one of those pursuits that puts one in the action, in the thick of it. You get to have some vitamin D (I have had my share of sunburns), you get exercise (ever packed fishing gear and bait, and schlepped baggage/scuba equipment onto a 35-foot Bimini-bound Contender?), and you get to learn about the anatomy of the fish you catch. A smart cook knows it’s a shame to toss a big fish head off the cleaning station at the dock.

I also learned that cleaning and slicing fresh conch for ceviche, while on the transom of a moving vessel, does not insure the retention of fingertips. When you slice off one of those, the next few days of diving are instant wake-up calls – ouch, sting, pain. Nobody laughed when I offered $20 to anyone who could find the tip of my index finger in the conch salad. So much for my Sid Caesar gene (to reference a past issue of Biscayne Times on how I got my name). I have cooked, I have learned. I have also improvised and created new tricks in the trade. That’s the Zen of cooking; the journey does not end.

Sixteen years ago, I was in Costa Rica photographing a tilapia farm (which is why I never eat tilapia anymore) and as a break the “patron” took us out fishing with a full local crew. (I was not allowed to do anything but reel them in and managed a 30-pound bull.) I did volunteer to do the cooking later that night and came up with this memorable menu. It was a strictly improvisational venture based on what I found in the patron’s kitchen: heavy cream, butter and some spices.

The patron gave his cook the night off and I took over the kitchen. A reasonable amount of other ingredients were there, and I spotted an unused bottle of capers – bingo!!! Creativity blossomed in my brain, which was also very flooded with the patron’s alcoholic concoction, something he called “Sol y Sombra.” It had fresh orange juice, dark rum, orange brandy and some other ingredients, so it kicked my ass.

Some fish have unsavory oils in the side meat, that darker flesh you find in mahi-mahi, grouper, mackerel and salmon. I only appreciate the darkness from the salmon; all others I tend to remove as it retains a “fishy” flavor. But if you like it, keep it. You paid for it one way or another (pack the car, pack the boat, get the bait, have fun on the water, catch the fish, clean the fish, backward-pack, go home, then cook!) Thank God a steak lover doesn’t have to start from scratch. Then, we might all be vegans.

Trimming the mahi-mahi to remove the dark side (“Luke ... remove the dark side.”) means the “force” is with you and your final fillet will taste cleaner. Please get fresh fish, and even when the fish store has it on ice, ask for a fresh piece. There’s nothing worse than three-day-old mahi-mahi, as it does not sit well. Let the recipe begin and have fun even if you adapt, alter and improvise my Crunchy Caper Creamy Mahi-Mahi recipe. You can of course decide upon a different side, but there is a reason for everything. In this case, the riced potatoes absorb the final dregs of sauce so you won’t need to lick the plates like the patron and his daughter did years ago in Costa Rica.

Fish, they are delish. Are you smelling what I’m tellin’?

CHEF SID’S CRUNCHY CAPER CREAMY MAHI-MAHI

INGREDIENTS

• 1-1.5 pounds fresh dolphin fillet (thicker front end is better, skin on), or two pieces about 6˝ long

• 1 bottle of capers (not the small puny type; medium-sized, if you don’t mind)

• A few ounces of flour (seasoned with salt and fresh ground pepper)

• A few sprinkles of dried tarragon

• A few splashes of olive oil

• 1/2 stick butter

• 1 tablespoon finely minced shallot

• One bottle pinot grigio (1/2 cup for recipe and the rest to drink, of course)

• 1/2 cup heavy cream

• 2 russet potatoes, peeled and boiled, firm, then “riced” (You can use a masher, but a potato ricer is best.)

• 3-4 sprigs chives, finely chopped

• Orange zest for garnish, optional

PREPARATION

• Remove skin from fillets and trim away the darker side meat, so no bloodline/dark meat remains.

• Take a good handful of capers, squeeze out the juice by hand and sauté them in a large saucepan over high heat in a half olive oil, half butter mix, until crispy and brown. Remove from heat and place on paper towel.

• Place fillets in flour and tap dry. Before placing into hot pan apply a light sprinkle of dried tarragon on both sides.

• In the same saucepan add a bit more olive oil and sauté fish with shallots and bring up heat. The fillets begin to render translucent to opaque when ready to flip over. When browned on both sides, add the white wine to deglaze the pan.

• Remove fillets and set aside; reduce the wine sauce and add the heavy cream while continuing the reduction.

• Time to rice up the potatoes, because they are a great way to absorb all the delicious sauce. Rice those taters and add chopped chives; throwing in a little butter never hurts. But no salt; capers are briny enough already.

• Plate the fish alongside the potatoes and drizzle all that sauce over the fillets, spilling some everywhere.

• Now it’s time to “Bam!”* a handful of fried capers all over the plate to make a mess. You can garnish with orange zest, if desired.

Serving the riced potatoes with sooooo much gravy and the ton of fried capers ... delish! For me, they are addictive with their crispy vinegar saltiness, and the crunch ... OMG.

Note: These are crazy times and most people won’t want to run to the market for one item. That was my case here. I used heavy cream in the original recipe; this time I used creme fraiche (cuz I had it) with a pinch of sugar. The creme actually separated a tad when I added it into the pinot grigio deglazed pan. I used a whisk to help it blend better. Improv.

* Emeril Lagasse made that sound a kitchen icon. Nice fellow, too!