The Secret Language of Fish, Volume 2

He was a bold man what first et a monkfish

Also called anglerfish by marine biologists and goosefish by some truly confused people and lotte by French chefs, this critter is so ugly you just know they breed in the dark. The name anglerfish makes the most sense from a morphological point of view, but fishmongers in the US usually sell it as monkfish. The creature is little more than a big toothy grin over which dangles a small fleshy lure. Picture a two-foot-wide gash of a mouth with dental work designed by H. P. Lovecraft. Add just enough skull to hold the mouth and a pair of bb's for eyes. Stick a narrow tail onto this critter, just slightly longer than the mouth is wide; clothe it in loose-fitting brown vinyl (not sharpei-loose, but loose enough to look like the fish hasn't had enough to eat). Now, at the very top center of the fish's head, attach a rubbery spine that droops down over the mouth, ending in a knob the size of a WD-40 oil droplet (this is the fish's lure). Give the fish the ability to twitch said rubbery spine. Just for kicks, make it slimy. This is a monkfish.

The monkfish spends its life lying on murky sea bottoms waiting for smaller fish to be attracted to his lure. When something tugs on the lure, the monkfish surges forward and snaps the little critter up. Then he settles back in the mud to wait for the next patsy.

Can you imagine the first fisherman who pulled one of these things up and thought, "I wonder if any of this is good to eat?" He must have been damned hungry.

Fishmongers the world over strip and discard the leathery skin. Even in Japan, where various types of fish skin are delicacies, no one has figured out a way to make this stuff palatable. In fact, most of the fish is discarded. In Europe and the United states, the only portion generally used are the two strips of bone-free flesh that run parallel to the monkfish spine. In Japan, gourmet chefs are as likely to throw out the flesh along with the bones. As far as they're concerned, the only important part of the monkfish is the liver, which they sometimes call the foie gras of the sea (I've also heard this claimed of stingray liver). I've only tasted monkfish liver once, and I found it extremely bitter, metallic and, well, liverish (in my lexicon that means nasty).

In all fairness, I should admit that I had cooked the liver before I tasted it. The preferred preparation in Japan is as sashimi (called ankimo), which I have not tried and probably never will. If you like that sort of thing, you'll have to either move to Japan or specifically request it from your fish monger because--in the US and Europe--they usually throw it out with the bones. Personally, I can't see the logic in eating the toxic waste filter of a bottom-dweller, especially raw.

Though lotte has been consumed in France for centuries, monkfish only became popular in the US back in the 1980s when stylish seafood establishments began touting it as "poorman's lobster." Monkfish tastes nothing like lobster ( I think the flavor is vaguely reminiscent of cashews), but the flesh does have a similar texture when it's cooked. Raw monkfish is somewhat gummy (not at all similar to lobster), making it unpleasant as sashimi or carpaccio.

I haven't done the necessary chemical analyses to verify this, but I would guess that monkfish is fairly high in gluconate and nearly devoid of TAME. I base these guesses on two aspects of the flesh: (1) a distinctly MSG-like taste and (2) no fishy smell (TMA from the breakdown of TMAO--see The Secret Language of Fish, Volume One). Whatever the cause of the flavor, monkfish flesh is delightfully rich and flavorful even though it is extremely low in fat. Despite these positive characteristics, I have found monkfish somewhat less forgiving than I expected in preparation.

A few points worth noting about monkfish preparation:

1. Ignore the references that tell you you can use monkfish as a substitute for lobster or scallops. No matter what you do, it will remain monkfish, and monkfish is not as sweet as lobster or scallops.
2. Remove the grey membrane from the fillets before you cook it. Remove all of the membrane. It not only shrinks like the silverskin on a pork tenderloin, it tastes foul
3. The thin layer of purplish-pink flesh surrounding the white fillet meat (and the thick red parallel vein therein) tastes pretty much the same as the white flesh when it cooks, but it turns grey and remains a bit gummy. Removing it will improve your presentation and will not significantly reduce the quantity of flesh.
4. Don't barbecue or grill this fish. Its low fat content guarantees it will stick to the grill.
5. Whether steaming, broiling, sautéing, poaching, or roasting, cook the fillets whole. If you want medallions, slice the fish after you cook it. If you slice the fillets into smaller pieces, they lose a lot of flavor with the juices.

I've already listed the range of cooking methods and noted that monkfish is crappy raw, but I haven't listed my favorite treatment: pickling. Monkfish makes a remarkable ceviche. About a year ago, while trying to convince a couple of coworkers to be a bit more courageous in their food choices, I brought some samples of ceviche mixto to work and passed out samples in ramekins. The ceviche included only three types of seafood: gulf shrimp, bay scallops, and monkfish. Everyone had their favorites. Princess V prefers the shrimp. A few others preferred the scallops. The majority, to my surprise, preferred the monkfish.

Ceviche Mixto With Monkfish

dramatis personae


one half pound 24-count shrimp, shelled and deveined
one half pound bay scallops
one three-quarter-pound monkfish fillet
a glass or ceramic bowl
one quart cold water
one quarter cup salt
juice from six large limes (or ten small or sixteen key limes)
zest of one lemon
one medium white onion
two roma tomatoes, 1/2 inch dice
one serrano pepper (two if you like it hot), seeded and minced
one garlic clove, minced
a handful of cilantro, torn
sea salt to taste

preparation notes

Yes, damnit, it has to be a glass or ceramic bowl. Metal bowls will make the ceviche taste like metal. Wood and plastics will be permanently flavored by the ceviche.

The shrimp, scallops, and fillet have to be as fresh as possible. Previously frozen bay scallops will taste bitter. The fillet is easy: it should look glossy and wet and should have no odor. If it looks the least bit dry, you don't want it. The shrimp present the greatest difficulty and the best chance to alienate your fish monger. The shrimp tails should be firm, the shells should feel solid, and the legs should be intact and solid--anything else is not fresh. Stale shrimp, like stale or previously frozen scallops, will taste bitter. They also have a muddy texture.

If you can't find decent bay scallops, good sea scallops are terrific (they're just more expensive and have to be cut up). In either case, remove the tough bit of foot from each scallop and discard it.

Remove the grey membrane and the purplish flesh from the fillet and cut it into half-inch cubes. Combine the fish, scallops, and shrimp in the glass bowl with the water and salt. Let the seafood brine for at least ten minutes while you do the rest of the prep.

Remove the lemon zest in toothpick-sized strips. Remove any pulp from the zest.

Peel the onion and slice it in half; then, slice two thin (2 or 3 millimeters) slices from each half. Four thin, round disks of onion. Set these aside. Dice the rest of the onion (1/4" dice).

Once everything is appropriately diced and minced and the brining is finished, pour the seafood into a strainer or colander and rinse it lightly. Rinse out the bowl.

Add the seafood, lime juice, zest, and vegetables (except for the onion slices) to the bowl and mix it thoroughly. Cover as much of the surface of the ceviche as possible with the four onion slices. Press down gently on the surface of the ceviche to be certain everything is soaking in the lime juice. Cover the bowl with cellophane and refrigerate for at least an hour and a half (overnight is better).

When you're ready to serve the ceviche, taste it to determine whether it needs any salt (the seafood may have absorbed enough in the brining). Pour off the majority of the juice before serving the ceviche.

I serve this with either cold flour tortillas, fresh corn tortillas, or slices of baguette. Guacamole is also an excellent complement.

Twice-Cooked Monkfish with Basil-Lime Hollandaise

I just tried this one out on Princess V the other night. We stuffed ourselves to groaning, polishing off the sauce. I considered this something of a no-brainer because Hollandaise/Bearnaise-type butter-and-egg-yolk sauces match well with monkfish, as do citrus and anise-like mints (basil, tarragon, fennel).

The quantities here should feed four.

dramatis personae

two one pound monkfish fillets
one teaspoon olive oil
one stick (8 tablespoons) butter
four egg yolks
juice of one large lime
dash sea salt
dash white pepper
one tablespoon fresh basil chiffonade

preparation notes

The twice-cooking in this case consists of sautéing the fillets to a medium rare point and broiling one side for three minutes to finish the fillets and give them a bit of crispy finish.

To double boil or not to double boil. This is a tough question for any would-be Hollandaise sauce maker, but I guess it depends on your level of control and the number of distractions in your kitchen. I use a double boiler. It's just too easy to burn the sauce otherwise. Be aware, however, that a double boiler will not prevent your sauce from overcooking or breaking. So, when you use a double boiler, have a dish towel on a nearby counter so that you can have a place to remove the upper pot to as it becomes necessary.

Here's my process; it produces a consistently velvety Hollandaise:

1. Put the lime juice, salt, and pepper in a ramekin in the double-boiler. Heat the double-boiler just to the boiling point and then turn down the heat slightly.
2. Remove the ramekin from the double-boiler. Whisk the egg yokes into the double-boiler.
3. Pour in the juice from the ramekin, and continue to whisk the yolks until they just begin to thicken (they should be slightly thicker than maple syrup). If you're used to making traditional Hollandaise (with lemon) or Bearnaise, don't be surprised if this sauce froths quite a bit; the lime juice is more acidic than most lemon juice or vinegars.
4. Remove the yolks from the heat (put the upper pot on the towel), continuing to whisk the yolks while you pour in one third of the butter.
5. Return the pot to the heat, whisking vigorously (from here on, anytime the sauce is over the heat, whisk vigorously).
6. Once the butter is completely incorporated, remove the sauce from the heat and whisk in another third of the butter.
7. Repeat step 5.
8. Repeat step 6 for the last of the butter.
9. Repeat step 5 again.
10. Once the butter is completely incorporated, remove the sauce from the heat. Whisk the sauce for a last vigorous minute or so while the pot cools a little.

Slice the fillets into medallions and arrange them however you like. Drizzle the sauce over the top. Serve this dish with rice, potatoes, or a crusty bread.