Fry 'Em Up

Local Fish photo by AMR

The story starts here. With a family tradition.

Fishing.

FD and his dad go fishing every spring and summer. I went one time last summer. There's not a lot of talking unless it's about the weather and how the fish are biting, which was fine by me. I love weather, and I love talking about bites. And as weird as it sounds I appreciated silence, the quiet rock of the boat. In fact I welcomed it, and when I achieve it with loved ones I hold it like a new kitten, a small gift from above. Sometimes talking clouds the purest truth of the activity, the act that is shared. Truth be told, as much as I'm a hip-hop/dance junkie, I'm happiest cooking when I'm in the kitchen without music and Bleu is at feet.

I pretty sure in our attempt to eat local meats our families decided we should eat what they can't. In addition to what we've procured.

Early this June FD and I realized we had a deep freezer half full of Ohio/Pennsylvania-caught fish. The only way to eat over 100 fillets/5 lbs of fish is to have a fish fry, right?

Other photos by SEKL, FDR, ASC

We like alliteration. We decide a Fish Fry on the 4th.

Sarah L. & I, over several Clover Clubs (okay, really it was over lunch at Naslada, we had water, there's no drama in that) craved Southern. We needed fish, corn on the cob, greens, coleslaw, shredded beef, cucumber salad, sweet potatoes, and pimento cheese.

At 5 Sarah arrived with 5 lbs of greens. We stemmed, we washed, we rendered fat from bacon, we wilted, we simmered, we kept going.

As a hostess, I can tell you a fish fry isn't easy. There's soaking, breading, frying, draining, and several more batches. In addition to getting sides ready, making sure guests are happy, and coordinating timing. I had anticipated easy street. I was wrong.

At any given time, I was stressed, crazy, witty, bossy, meek, pissed, satisfied, jittery, relaxed, humble, loud, quiet, grateful, and, most importantly, thoughtful about food, where it comes from and who we share it with.

~

Sweet potato chips in the fryer

There are few people I am around where we don't talk and are cool. It's a weird thing to be around people in silence. Besides movie theaters and doctor offices when really don't humans speak to each other except when they are alone?

I'm loud.

Many people have told me I remind them of a cartoon character (perhaps because of my love of Hello Kitty???) and that I'm intense, animated, intimidating, etc.


I'm just passionate, honest, and enthusiastic.

Even though fishing is a quiet act, frying is not. There's oohhhing, aaahhhing, yelling for more flour, worrying about bubbling over, etc. etc.

At one point, though, we got in our assembly line rhythm, and the four of us battered and fried the last batch with almost no verbal communication. Our hands dredged fish, shook off the extra batter, placed fillets in the fryer and did it again, as if we all shared one mind.

It reminded me of the rock of the boat, the fishing poles in our hands, and dawn breaking over the lake.

~

All hands on deck

We fried 'em up on the 4th.

Sarah L., G, E.H., and I took charge. It was clear we were the food obsessed.

Or better put: we were devoted to the fish. Others were too. They would be present for start to finish of a batch, such as FD, CC, and AC, which I appreciate whole heartily. In fact, as as Gemini, I welcomed any attention. The other guests looked on like it was a train wreck. People like danger, potential fire, and drama. In a matter of two hours of this fish fry I had cooked several dishes cooked and ready, a fryer that wouldn't heat up and tripped the breaker, a severe mandolin (the knife, not the instrument) injury, and realized I was two hours behind eating time.

As an OCD hostess I was fucked.

But inviting the perfect people dissolved my need to obsess and surrender to defeat.

Several dishes were ready: right on; Jersey helped me figure out my breakers and turn shit off to turn on the fryer; my mom's hospital office job where I became friends with nurses gave me the know-how to aid a cut wound into remission (we thought we needed stitches but really only what we needed was to lay down on the bathroom floor [see being OCD does pay off; the floor was sparkling clean] with the finger in the air, some Solarcaine, a bandage, and some Sherry), and for the most part our friends like to eat between 8-9 p.m.

I was in luck.

~

Fishes in the fryer

My Pops was specific, "Fry away from the house. Put it between the house and the garage on the edge of the patio. And assign one fryer attendant. It should be you. It's our fryer. You'll know how to work it."

I was in bare feet.

That wasn't in the manual, but my Pops said, "Wear shoes."

I followed my Pops' advice. And didn't. We do that as kids. We're allowed.

This was the first meal I made that potentially risked my home, my loved ones, my clothing (which I love a lot), and my bare feet.

And I think others felt that way.

They stood and watched.

What would happen?

For the first time ever I saw concern on Sarah L.'s face. I don't know about this, her expression read in one photo. When she showed me the pic, I thought, That's my look. What are you doing???

Then she said, "That's the look you make every time I make a souffle or marshmallows. I guess I didn't realize how freaked out I was."

Deep frying is scary.

And lots of fun.

~

I had a lot of help, but I was ultimately guardian of the fryer, as my Pops had advised.

I dropped the basket in. We all watched the oil bubble up and engulf the fish, though. And G would give the basket a shake so the fish wouldn't stick too much together while I was running around organizing other things. But when the fishies were fried, it was I who pulled the basket out with its little coat-hanger-pulley-thingy. I put the lid on, let the temperature come back up to 400, assembled the assembly line and started again.

My Pops would have been proud.

~

At 9, the crew went through the buffet line and piled their plates with cuke salads, braised greens, baked beans, grilled corn, crisp coleslaw, shredded beef, and fried fish.

There was one moment of silence at the beginning as folks chewed the first bites. But then there were outbursts over flavors or new conversations.

Dessert (s'mores with homemade marshmallows, chocolate, and pralines) was just as big of a hit.

And while I made future notes to buy more Nut Thins and lemons (thanks L & S for the run to Kroger!), to put butter, salt and pepper on the table for corn, and to put out as many chairs as we have, what sticks with me more is how a family tradition became a gathering.

 There were writers and teachers, a print media-ist, a composer of music, a medical assistant, an archivist, a webmaster, a construction guru/visual artist, a dancer, and a bio-chemist. A talented motley crew with a love of fried food.  What I love about parties is sometimes these talents are brought up and other times we get to escape them for a few moments under the silent canopy of holiday lights.

The Greenhouse Tavern: Revisited

Crispy Hominy

Back in July I visited The Greenhouse Tavern in Cleveland and absolutely LOVED my dining experience. It was one of the most incredible-tastiest, most-satisfying, so-happy-to-eat-in-Cleveland experiences I've had to date.

So I figured when I took FD there for his special birthday dinner it was going to be the same mind-blowing, mouth orgy again. That doesn't seem an unreasonable assumption, does it?

Chef Sawyer is known for his seasonl spin on contemporary comfort food. And I firmly believe in his Green mission and the restaurant's farm-to-table mentality. There's no doubt in my mind that my food values are completely aligned with The Greenhouse Tavern's; we're totally on the same page.

But FD's birthday meal has left me frustrated and reconsidering going to The Greenhouse Tavern again. At least for anything else other than Animal Style Frites.

Chilled Sweet Potato & Cabbage Soup

I want to be clear that the opinions I express are as an honest food critic and paying customer. It is not my intention to slander any restaurant. It is only my intention to share my dining experiences as an average-Jane diner with no strings attached.

Let it be known that I think the good at The Greenhouse Tavern is definitely worth experiencing, but the customer service is something, I feel, needs much improvement.

Let it be known that the intoxicating, primitive experience event of eating Animal Style Frites is something every food lover MUST experience. However, I must warn any diner that the sassy-and-not-in-a-good-way attitude from a few of the servers and runners at The Greenhouse Tavern might disrupt that experience and turn it into something not-so-much-fun.

Animal Style Frites

Because I am a detail-oriented person who believes arguments should have ample credible support, I feel the following examples will illustrate how lack luster the customer service at The Greenhouse Tavern is.  First of all, when we were seated we were not approached immediately, and once the server approached our table, he did not announce the beers on tap or show us the beer and wine menu. For an establishment that has tavern in its title, I feel is imperative that every server share this information before asking diners what drinks they want. It's helpful and it makes diners feel comfortable in additional to a little of booze and a few recommendations mean a bigger tip usually. Also, the The four course chef's tasting menu used to be $39; now it's $44. If you do the math, it's a rip off; you can order food from each section and usually pay less than $44. I understand this doesn't have to do with servers, but it has to do with customer service and not taking customers (who are in a city that is having hard economic times!) for a ride. Next, our first and second courses were served at the same time. Our table ordered the four course chef's tasting menu because we wanted to have a long dinner; serving both courses not only screwed up the timing and our experience, but also it upset the taste of each course. I have no interest eating chilled soup with hominy or even better hominy with lardo speck gnocchi, which is what we did in much of a rage. Our server's response to the matter: "First and second courses are small tonight; we're serving them together." However, all the surrounding tables were receiving them separately and our portions were huge. The runners had to be asked to box leftovers, and during dessert when a decaf cup of coffee served to our table was cold, the runner deliberated aloud the time it would take to make a fresh pot, which was really rude and destroyed the flow of our table's conversation. Finally, the server forgot one of our guest's desserts and overcharged that same guest by two desserts, even though dessert was included in their four course chef's tasting menu. Needless to say, I didn't leave feeling satisfied this time.

Strip Steak with Pomme Frites

Dear reader, I'm not happy to report these examples of rude, unorganized, and sloppy service. It breaks my heart quite frankly. But I feel the need to share because as food lovers and paying customers we expect a meaningful dining experience, and we, as paying customers, are shelling out a lot of hard-earned money to get that experience, especially in times like these. I have a huge problem with celebrity chef restaurants and talked-up restaurants not delivering on customer service. Restaurants are part of the service industry. That means meeting the expectations of customers and making those customers happy. In this case and in other cases, such as Michael Symon's Bar Symon, I feel the servers are hired because they need jobs and look indy enough to work there. But the servers and runners should know about the food, about serving a table, about the etiquette of dining, and about who actually is paying their paycheck, which are the customers, essentially. If I drop $200 at a restaurant, like I did at The Greenhouse Tavern, I expect the server to be respectful, knowledgeable, and competent. That's not much to ask. And as diners that's all we want. I understand some servers are flirty, some friendly, some hands-off-but-aware, or some funny. A little personality is great. But there must be smarts to match it. And that training MUST come from the owner, the manager, and the executive chef. I can't justify spending that amount of money on a meal when half my experience is spent frustrated at a server who looks and acts like he just did ten lines of coke and is saying his allergies are bad today.

Gravy Frites

With that said, the lardo speck gnocchi was to die for. The halibut was absolutely perfectly cooked, even though the garnish was useless. The kick of hit at the end of a taste of the Ratatouille Vegetables Involtini was divine. The texture of the sweet potato and cabbage chilled soup was so silky it was like sexy satin sheets. The strip steak had a flawless sear and was faultlessly cooked to medium. And the Gravy Frites and Animal Style Frites--I live for them. Period.

Alas, I'm sad this review isn't more about the food. But it replicates my turmoil during this meal. I would have one moment of ecstasy which would be clouded by an unnatural desire to throw a punch.

What's the balance of food and service? Which is more important? Or are both equally important? Is a small dining room like at Revolver or Lucky's Cafe--where service is ALWAYS good--the key? I don't have any answers. But I sure wish I did.  

Pure coolness. The Greenhouse Tavern serves Black Label in a can for under $2.

Fish Fry with Flare

Fish, in general, never used to excite me.

In fact, it usually causes panic, especially when I used to buy it at the grocery store. I never knew if the fish--tilapia, sole, halibut, etc.--had come in contact with shelled seafood, my arch-nemesis that has the power to kill me.

So for many years I just avoided the whole fish situation by not eating it at all, unless it was a McFish sandwich during lent.

Then I married a fisherman. Then I stopped eating fast food. Then I became a returning Catholic.

Now I'm eating fish.

Not just any fish, though. I'm eating fish that FD or his dad or his brother caught--mostly crappies, perch or walleye--at Mosquito Creek Reservoir or in Lake Erie near the Canadian border.

Most times I've left it to FD to prepare and cook the fish. That is until Lent started. As one of my Lenten meditations, I've taken up cooking fish.

And, of course, the best recipe I found fries it. Proclaiming to be a huge fan of fried food doesn't do hot oil and batter justice. Literally, I would eat anything fried--pickles, pizza, twinkles, crickets, roaches. That's how much I love fried food. I try not to eat it often, though. As we all know, it's not the healthiest preparation.

FD makes the most healthy of fish recipes: sauteing fillets in curry powder, baking them in parchment paper, etc. And I find this little piece of buttermilk-battered heaven.

Surely God is proud of my Lenten promise to cook fish.

Or more likely the fool who invented Epicurious is definitely going straight to heaven.

FD and I didn't have the time or ingredients for the pickled onions and peppers or the salsa verde--mostly because I refused to buy the ingredients at the grocery when I know I could make it at the end of the summer with all local ingredients, which would taste WAY better--but we made the Baja Cream, I marinated those little fillets in the buttermilk batter and we fried up in an inch of oil for 4 minutes, kept them warm in the oven, and found ourselves absolutely in love with this Mexican fish fry. (Justin Timberlake and Timberland, how come you couldn't sing about this recipe???)

We made a few adjustments, though. Use flour instead of corn tortillas; they hold up better and taste better. (Yes, we used both to make sure.) Add Cayenne Pepper to the flour for a kick; it's awesome.

Seriously, I force myself to eat fish. With this recipe I devoured, easily and happily, four tacos in one seating plus a few sneak bites of leftover fish before FD did the dishes.

It was sick. It was sickly awesome.

(Note: I use the word sick as a good thing. I didn't get sick from this recipe. In fact, it made my tummy very happy.)

~

Ingredients:

Pickled Red Onion and Jalapeños

• 1 red onion (about 12 ounces), halved lengthwise, cut thinly crosswise
• 5 whole small jalapeños
• 2 cups seasoned rice vinegar
• 3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
• 1 tablespoon coarse kosher salt

Baja cream

• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
• 1 teaspoon (packed) finely grated lime peel
• Pinch of salt

Tomatillo Salsa Verde

• 12 ounces tomatillos,* husked, stemmed, divided
• 4 green onions, white and green parts separated
• 1 jalapeño chile
• 2 garlic cloves, unpeeled

• 1 1/4 cups (packed) fresh cilantro leaves
• 1 tablespoon (or more) fresh lime juice

Fish

• 2 cups buttermilk
• 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
• 2 tablespoons hot pepper sauce--Sriracha!!!
• 3 teaspoons coarse kosher salt, divided
• 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
• 2 pounds skinless halibut, sea bass, or striped bass fillets, cut into 1/2x1/2-inch strips (or in our case, walleye, perch, crappies!)
  

• 16 flour tortillas
• 1t Cayenne Pepper
  
• 2 cups self-rising flour
• Vegetable oil (for frying)

• Fresh salsa
• Guacamole

Preparation:

For pickled red onion and jalapeños:
Place onion and jalapeños in heatproof medium bowl. Mix vinegar, lime juice, and salt in small saucepan. Bring just to boil, stirring until salt dissolves. Pour over onion and jalapeños. Let stand at room temperature at least 1 hour and up to 8 hours. (Can be made 1 week ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

For baja cream:
Whisk all ingredients in small bowl. (Can be made 3 days ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

For tomatillo salsa verde:
Preheat oven to 375°F. Lightly oil roasting pan. Char half of tomatillos, white parts of green onions, and jalapeño directly over gas flame or in broiler. Transfer charred vegetables to prepared roasting pan. Add remaining tomatillos and garlic cloves to pan. Roast until all vegetables are soft, about 12 minutes. Cool.

Stem and seed jalapeño. Place all roasted vegetables, green onion tops, cilantro, and 1 tablespoon lime juice in blender. Puree until smooth, stopping to push vegetables down into blades several times. Transfer to medium bowl. Season with salt and more lime juice, if desired.

For fish:
Mix buttermilk, cilantro, pepper sauce, 1 teaspoon salt, and lime juice in large bowl. Add fish; toss. Cover; chill at least 1 hour and up to 3 hours.

Preheat oven to 300°F. Wrap tortillas in foil; place in oven to warm. Whisk flour and remaining 2 teaspoons salt in medium bowl. Add enough oil to large skillet to reach depth of 1 inch. Heat oil until thermometer registers 350°F. Working in batches, remove fish from marinade and dredge in flour. Carefully add fish to skillet, cover partially, and fry until golden brown, turning occasionally, about 4 minutes. Transfer to paper-towel-lined baking sheet to drain, then transfer to oven to keep warm.

Set up buffet with all taco fixings, along with fresh salsa and guacamole.

*Green and tomato-like with a papery husk, tomatillos are available in the produce section of some supermarkets and Latin markets.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Fish-Taco-Platter-233703#ixzz0gsEL89K