Showing posts with label salt cod. Show all posts
Showing posts with label salt cod. Show all posts

Saturday, March 19, 2016

BACALAO IS COMING ‘ROUND AGAIN

With Semana Santa (Holy Week) about to begin (tomorrow is Domingo de Ramos—Palm Sunday), I am looking through my files of bacalao recipes. Bacalao—dry salt cod—is the most emblematic food for Holy Week everywhere in Spain. That’s because, in bygone times, they were days of abstinence, when meat was disavowed by the religiously observant.


Where I live, within view of Mediterranean fishing ports, I get superb fresh fish and shellfish, so have no reason to resort to salt cod. But, for tradition’s sake, once a year it is my—no, not penance!—challenge to try out a different way of preparing it. So, bacalao is coming round again.

Salt cod in garlicky pil pil sauce.

This year, I’m tackling a recipe loaded with mystique—the Basque preparation, bacalao al pil pil (salt cod in garlic pil pil sauce).

Bacalao at a pinxto bar in Bilbao.
If you’ve ever gone pinxto-hopping in Bilbao´s Old Quarter, in the neighborhood surrounding the Plaza Nueva, you may have savored this emblematic Basque dish—salt cod with a thick, golden garlic sauce.

Much mystique accompanies pil pil, which consists of nothing more than cod, olive oil and garlic. First you have to convert the stiff, cardboard-like dry cod into white, flaky fish. Then you have to magically thicken the olive oil into an unctuous and delicious sauce, by slowly swirling the warmed oil into the cod. The gelatine in its skin combines with the oil to make a sauce as thick as mayonnaise. The clever Basques even invented an electric device that keeps the cazuela rocking, freeing up hands for other jobs. Supposedly the name, "pil pil," is onomatopoeic--it's the sizzle the cod makes in the hot oil.

A cazuela—earthenware casserole—is perfect for cooking this dish because it holds the heat. You can use a skillet instead, but take care never to let the cod cook too hot.

Dry salt cod must be de-salted in water before cooking.

The basic recipe for bacalao al pil pil is below. But I made some variations.  I used a whole split—half a cod with skin—weighing about 1 pound (that is quite small) to make the pil pil sauce. Separately, I poached 12 ounces of skinless, center-cut lomo, loin, and added it to the sauce at the end. The thick loin made 4 tapa or starter servings. The cooked cod that I used for the sauce was picked off the bones and saved to make bacalao fritters later in the week. Any leftover sauce is delicious with cooked vegetables.

I like bacalao al pil pil in small portions as a tapa or starter. In Bilbao it is served atop bread as a pintxo (a tapa stuck on a pick). Txacolí—a bright, acidic white wine with a light fizz from Vizcaya (Basque Country)—is the perfect accompaniment.

Tapa-size portions of cod pil pil, with piquillo peppers on the side.

Pil pil sauce is as thick as mayonnaise. The gelatine in the cod skin causes the oil to emulsify.

Salt Cod in Garlic Pil Pil Sauce
Bacalao al Pil Pil


Makes 6 tapas or starters.

1 ½ pounds center-cut salt cod with skin
1 ½ cups extra virgin olive oil
4 cloves garlic, sliced crosswise
1 or more small dry red chiles, sliced crosswise


Two days before cooking the cod
De-salt the cod. Wash the cod, place it in a nonreactive bowl and cover with water. Cover the bowl and refrigerate. Soak the cod 36 to 48 hours, changing the water three times a day. 

After soaking. At the top are pieces with skin. Below are chunks of the skinless "loin" to be poached.


To cook the cod:
Cut away any bones.
Drain the cod and gently squeeze out excess water. Use fingers to find any bones in the pieces of cod. Use a filleting knife to remove them. Gently scrape off scales, but leave the skin intact.

Discard any thin-fleshed and bony sections. Cut the pieces into equal-sized pieces. Pat them dry on paper towels. 

Heat the oil in a skillet. Add the sliced garlic and chiles and fry until garlic is just golden, 30 seconds. Skim out the garlic and chiles and reserve them. Carefully pour the oil in the pan into a heat-proof measuring cup. 

Cod is pilpeando--making a sizzling sound--in the oil.
Heat ¼ cup of the oil in a 10-inch cazuela (earthenware casserole) or pan. Place the pieces of cod in the oil, skin side down and cook 2 minutes, shaking the cazuela so the skin doesn't stick. Very carefully turn the pieces of cod, skin side up.

Add 2 tablespoons of the warm oil. Place the cazuela over a very low heat or on top of a board or counter top and gently rock the cazuela to swirl the oil and cod in a circular motion. When the oil begins to thicken, add 1 tablespoon more warm oil. Swirl the cazuela until the oil emulsifies, then add another spoonful of oil.

Swirl the oil into the cazuela. It begins to emulsify.
Continue adding oil, a spoonful at a time, rocking and swirling the cazuela, until all the oil is incorporated and sauce is as thick as mayonnaise. Be patient—this will take about 15 minutes.

To separately poach the skinless pieces of cod, bring a pan of water to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer. Add the pieces of cod and poach them gently for 5 minutes. Carefully remove the cod with a slotted spoon and keep warm. Do not let the water boil or bubble. Add the poached cod to the finished pil pil sauce. 

Sprinkle the reserved garlic and chile on top of the cod. Serve the cod and sauce immediately or hold at room temperature for up to 30 minutes.

To reheat the cod and sauce, place the cazuela in a cold oven and set the temperature for 300ºF. When oven comes up to temperature, remove the cazuela, swirl in 1 tablespoon water and return to the oven for 5 minutes. Do not overheat or the sauce will separate.

Individual portions of cod and sauce can be reheated in a microwave set at medium for 1 ½ minutes.



Other bacalao recipes are here:

Sunday, March 18, 2012

LIKE LEEKS

Leeks from the garden.

Biding their time through the winter, the leeks in my garden plot are ready for pulling. I’ve used one here and there, usually for adding to chicken or vegetable soup, but now the whole crop is ready to harvest. What to do with several dozen leeks?

Leeks can be used in place of onions, of course. They are milder, sweeter than onions. I especially like them with all things fish—sauteed in olive oil until melted into a thick jam as a bed for roasted salmon; simmered with white wine and scallops or mussels; fried to a frizzle as a garnish for grilled sea bass.

Leeks, trimmed of outer leaves and tops.
I love leeks prepared in that old-fashioned French dish, leeks a la grecque. The leeks simmer in an aromatic mixture of vinegar and olive oil and are left to cool in the broth, to be served atop greens as a salad course.

There’s always vichysoisse, a leek and potato soup. That trail led me to a home-style Basque soup, porrusalda, leek and potato soup, often embellished with salt cod. Lush with leeks, the soup is not pureed as is vichysoisse. Olive oil, not cream, gives it richness. Some cooks add carrots or pumpkin as well as potatoes. I like a sprinkle of hot pimentón (paprika) to punch up the flavor.



Dirt collects between leaves.

Leeks collect dirt between the multi-layered leaves. The best way to clean them is to slice downward from the tops and spread the leaves open under running water. Strip off and discard any leathery outer leaves.



Porrusalda is Basque leek and potato soup with salt cod.


PORRUSALDA
Basque Leek Soup


8 ounces salt cod (optional)
6 to 8 leeks (about 1 ½ pounds after tops are trimmed)
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 carrot, sliced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 ¼ pounds potatoes (russet type)
5 cups water or light chicken stock
Salt and pepper

Hot pimentón (paprika), if desired

If using the cod, put it to soak in water to cover 36 hours before preparing the soup. Cover and refrigerate. Change the water twice daily. Drain and rinse the cod. Cut it into bite-size pieces, discarding any skin and bone.

Split the leeks lengthwise and wash them well. Slice them crosswise (making approximately 5 cups of sliced leeks).

Heat the oil in a cazuela or soup pot. Add the sliced leeks, carrot and garlic. Sauté 3 minutes.

Peel and cut the potatoes into bite-sized chunks. Add potatoes to the cazuela with water or stock to cover. Bring to a boil, lower heat to a simmer and add the pieces of cod. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.

Taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper. Simmer another 15 minutes until potatoes and leeks are tender. Sprinkle with hot pimentón before serving.

Leek and potato soup.

Here’s a tip I learned from a television chef: use the outer leaves of a leek to wrap up a bouquet garni with carrot, celery, parsley and thyme.

Friday, April 2, 2010

IF IT'S GOOD FRIDAY, IT MUST BE BACALAO


This is Semana Santa, Holy Week, which precedes the joyous feast of Easter. In Catholic Spain, many people observe the Lenten period by abstaining from meat. In that sense, this holiday is a fast rather than a feast, but it, too, is celebrated with special foods, in particular, bacalao, salt cod. On the streets of cities and villages, Holy Week brings massive religious processions and fervent demonstrations of faith. 

Many years ago I lived several miles from town in an old mill house that had no electricity and no running water. To get my hair washed and dried, I went weekly to the village beauty shop, run by María. This was one of my best sources for recipes because, along with local gossip, the talk amongst the village ladies was invariably of food--what to serve for the next meal. While I waited my turn, I gathered recipes.

On one occasion, a week before Semana Santa, the place was jammed with many women waiting for a perm and color. Holy Week marks one of the three occasions of the year when every woman in town and country must have a new hair-do and color job. (The other two are the village feria and Christmas, which also signal housewives to get busy white-washing their house facades). I sat down, fully prepared to wait at least two hours.

María rushed over to me, proudly displaying a wig. The color was dark chestnut, the color of choice for local women in those days (now, blond and copper are just as common), and the hair was curled in lovely long ringlets. A dozen women crowded around to ooh and ah. What was so special?

De la Virgen de los Dolores,” María said. The wig had been removed from the church’s image of the Virgin of the Sorrows, the life-size statue of the grieving Mother of Christ, with her jeweled tear-drops, which would be borne in the processions on Good Friday, and taken to the local beauty shop for restyling. Obviously no Andalusian woman, holy or otherwise, would dare walk in the procession without having her hair done!

The transubstantiation of dry salt cod
It was in a tapa bar during village processions that I first tasted bacalao, dry salt cod. It was delicious cooked in several ways, in a sauce and also batter-fried.

In the days before refrigeration and rapid means of transportation, fresh fish rarely was available to people who lived far inland from fishing ports. So during the Lenten period, when the Church required abstinence from meat, bacalao became an important part of the diet. Even in my village, so close to the sea, where people ate fresh seafood every day, bacalao was the choice for viernes santo, Good Friday.

I think it must be the mystery of the transubstantiation of bacalao, from a texture like cardboard and a smell like dirty socks, into a soft, snowy-white fish, that makes it appropriate to the season.

Though I enjoy eating bacalao in tapa bars, I rarely cook it at home. Except today. If it’s Good Friday, it’s got to be bacalao.

Because I recently returned from a trip to Barcelona (more about that in future posts), this year I’ve selected a Catalan recipe, bacalao a la llauna. A llauna is a shallow oven pan in which the cod finishes cooking. The cod is often served with tiny white beans, called mongetes, similar to navy beans. I brought some of those back from Barcelona. Once cooked (ok, not being very abstinent, I threw a chunk of pancetta into the pot), I dressed them with Arbequina olive oil from DO Siurana in Catalonia and the sauce from the cod. The garnish is of crisp-fried leeks (slice them crosswise, separate into rings, toss with flour and fry in olive oil).

SALT COD, CATALAN STYLE
BACALAO A LA LLAUNA


Start this recipe at least 24 hours before you intend to serve it. Select thick, center-cut pieces of salt cod, about 6 ounces per person. Trim away any fins and bones, but leave the skin. Rinse in running water and place the pieces of cod in a bowl. Cover with fresh water. Cover and refrigerate. Soak the cod for 24 to 36 hours (longer time for thicker pieces), changing the water 3 or 4 times.

Drain the cod and squeeze out excess water. Pat dry on paper towels.Use a boning knife to cut away any fins and bones.

Serves 4.
 

1 ½ pounds salt cod, cut in
      4 to 8 pieces, soaked for 24 hours
flour for dusting the cod
1/3 cup olive oil, preferably Catalan
     Arbequina
4 cloves garlic, sliced crosswise
2 ½ tablespoons pimentón (paprika)
½ cup white wine
salt and freshly ground black pepper
chopped parsley
cooked beans (optional)
fried leeks (optional)

Preheat oven to 350ºF (180ºC).

Dredge pieces of cod in flour and pat off excess. Heat the oil in a skillet on medium heat. Fry the pieces of cod on all sides until lightly browned. Remove them and set aside.

Strain the oil into a clean skillet (in order to eliminate flour bits). Heat the oil and sauté the sliced garlic until very lightly golden. Remove the skillet from the heat and stir in the pimentón. Add the wine, salt and pepper. Return to the heat and simmer 3 minutes.

Lightly oil a shallow oven pan. Place the pieces of cod in it, skin-side down. Spoon the sauce over the top and sprinkle with parsley. Bake until the fish flakes easily, about 10 minutes.

Serve immediately, accompanied, if desired, by cooked beans and fried leeks.



Post tasting notes: I’m supposed to be the expert! But, my rendition of this recipe—tasted after I made the photograph—was not great. The bacalao was way too salty. The thick pieces needed another 24 hours soaking. Plus, I think I would cover the llauna oven pan with foil to keep the moisture in during baking. It really should be moist and flaky and mine wasn’t. But, maybe I need to cook bacalao more than once a year!