Fishn' Whole - Recap

The episode opens at a support group meeting, much like an Alcoholics Anonymous group, or perhaps any of a number of similar groups. One woman introduces a new member who stands and slowly speaks. She introduces herself as Phyllis, and reveals that she... is afraid of whole fish. The other members greet her and she continues. She doesn’t know where to start: the heads, the fins, the scales – it’s just too much. Others add their own stories, about the eyes that stare back. But one man disagrees! Alton, waiting for the next group (the one that helps people with a fear of clowns), does not fear whole fish.

Compared to steaks and fillets, whole fish are usually fresher and more flavorful, more versatile and more fun to deal with. With a little experience, there’s no difference between the giant mahi-mahi and the little bitty goldfish. Alton pulls a goldfish from his pocket, evoking gasps of shock and at least one dead faint, as poor Phyllis folds up like a broken card table.

The cook who wishes to tackle whole fish must understand fish, and that starts with anatomy. Alton visits the Georgia Aquarium, where he examines a few examples in the tanks. Unlike terrestrial creatures that constantly battle gravity, most fish have a floatation bladder that allows them to hover in a water column. They concentrate the muscle energy on motion. Some slither (like snakes) and some fly (like birds), but most oscillate, twitching from side to side. Myotomes – special muscles flanking their spines – make this possible. Oscillation fish can manage relatively high speeds with this motion, up to fifteen miles an hour. That requires a lot of muscle mass. As much as 65% of the typical oscillator’s mass is muscle. Even better (from the cook’s perspective) is that this muscle is the same from tip to tail, unlike cows and chickens and other creatures that have specialized muscle types. The muscles do vary between fish species.

Grouper, a slow moving warm water fish has very light meat with a mild flavor. It overcooks quickly. Tuna, which live in colder and deeper water and which move faster, have meat that contains more oil and is red and richer, somewhat like steak in texture.

Back in the kitchen, Alton introduces viewers to the striped bass, a fish he describes as the most versatile finned fish they’re likely to encounter. Wild, they grow as large as forty pounds, but farm versions typically weigh between 1½ and 3 pounds. The flesh is firm, but flaky, sweet but not fatty. Even better, striped bass farming is sustainable.

Whatever variety one selects, proper storage is important. Alton stores his fish on ice, in a vessel with several holes drilled in the bottom. He fits that into another identical vessel, adding spacers if necessary. Water from the melting ice drips through the holes and collects in the gap between the two containers, instead of collecting around the fish. Stored on ice and kept dry, fish keeps three or four days (depending largely on how fresh it was at the time of purchase).

Alton removes his fish and prepares them. He starts by removing the fins, which are basically a series of very sharp bony spikes connected by a membrane. These spines can easily pierce flesh and such wounds are prone to infection. He does leave the tail in place for now, because he’ll use it as a kind of handle during scaling.

One might get the fishmonger to remove the scales, but fish go downhill in a hurry once the scales come off, so Alton has his vendor leave them alone. Removing them comes properly after removing the fins. It’s a messy job, and Alton eschews unitaskers like specialized fish scaling tools in favor of shears – ideally, a pair whose blades come apart. To keep the scales confined, Alton has constructed a scaling box from a clear storage bin and a pair of heavy rubber gloves. This the same basic type of protective box chemists and other scientists use when handling dangerous materials. With rapid back and forth motion, Alton works from tail to head several times. When the fish feels smooth, Alton rinses it and begins to consider culinary options.

Every seafood cookbook, Alton claims, has at least one recipe along the lines of: shovel herbs into the fish and roast it hot and fast in the oven. Alton’s not sure one can infuse herbal goodness this way. He plans a hybrid approach, and it starts by setting the oven to 500º. Yes, that’s a lot of heat – but it will be absorbed slowly. Alton oils a roasting pan (to discourage sticking) and coats a pair of striped bass liberally before salting and peppering them on both sides. Then he pulls the fish from the pan and layers greenery: parsley and dill, and an onion cut into rings. Lemon slices go in last, so they’re right next to the fish. The fish go on top of that, pointing in opposite directions; this makes a “tighter package.” Alton layers more lemon slices, onion rings and herbs on top until he covers the fish. He finishes the package with a drizzle of oil that will help hold things together and also convey fat-soluble flavors from the herbs to the fish. Finally, he crimps a layer of foil around the pan to build pressure which encourages flavors to migrate into the fish. Alton slides his pan into the oven and sets a timer for thirty minutes.

Overcooking may be the only cardinal sin in fish cookery. To avoid it, Alton uses a thermometer. He’s looking for right around 120º F. His fish are a few degrees hot, which is okay. Removing the foil, Alton confronts his next challenge, moving the fish. His secret weapon? Turkey lifters, tools bad at what they’re intended for, but good at other tasks. He first scrapes off the top layer of herbs, then lifts the fish gently to a new platter he has prepared with a new herb bed. The new herb bed simply makes a better presentation than the somewhat wilted herbs with which the fish baked. Finally, he arrays some lemon wedges for squeezing at the table around the fish.

Fish have a high surface to mass ratio and a regular structure. That suits them well for grilling. Alton peeks through the fence at his neighbor, who is attempting that very task and facing most of the common challenges. He’s got problems with heat control, his fish are sticking and he has trouble moving and turning them. Alton disdains the usual solution, a wire cage, in favor of an older approach.

Centuries ago, Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest preserved fish by stretching them on planks planted upright beside a smoldering fire. (Alton pulls out a pair of dolls and a small diorama to illustrate.) Often, the men tended the fish and the women gathered fuel. These days, many cooking stores will sell planks of cedar, alder, maple and hickory, typically in pairs for $10 or $15. That’s a ridiculous price compared to a lumber yard, which is where Alton goes for his planks. He purchases a long board and has them cut it down for him. But, Alton cautions, one must purchase furniture grade, kiln-dried wood. Pressure treated wood contains preservative chemicals (like arsenic) that are assuredly not good eats! (Another customer claims that he has been cooking with pressure treated wood his whole life – but when he turns to leave, a large purple tail is revealed!)

Wood is a good insulator right up until it burns at about 550º. Fortunately, soaking the wood for a few hours (or even as long as a day) can delay this reaction. Water-logged wood must dry before it can burn. Alton puts a couple of planks in the kitchen and then adds some weights to keep them submerged.

Next, Alton pulls out a pair of rainbow trout. These freshwater cousins of the salmon are farm raised in the United States. Unlike many other fish, they’re efficient at feed conversion, produce little waste and rarely escape, so they’re sustainable. Most importantly from Alton’s perspective, they work well on planks...

Alton retrieves a pair of planks (television time is grand) that have dripped dry and lays the fish atop them. They in turn rest on a half sheet pan. With a pair of heavy shears, Alton removes the head (cutting from each side) and pectoral fin, then the ventral and dorsal fins – remember that the dorsal fin contains spines!

A little canola oil lubes the fish (inside and out). Salt and pepper form the basic seasoning. Then Alton props the fish upright by spreading the belly “flaps” to either side so the body is in roughly the same position it would be in were the fish swimming. That done, the fish are ready for grilling. Alton keeps his grill between 375º F and 400º F. His goal is to have the fish finish cooking just about the time the boards are dry and they have barely begun to char and smoke. If the boards actually ignite, well, that’s waiting too long. Just in case, Alton keeps a fire extinguisher handy (although he has never needed it). He lights only the middle burner of the gas grill because his goal is indirect heat. One plank goes near the back of the grill, and the other goes near the front; a small gap between them allows heat to radiate and flow upwards to the top, and then back downwards to the fish. Cooking fish this way takes about twenty minutes; when Alton returns his fish are at 122º F, which is just right. The boards have barely charred, and can be washed thoroughly in hot water, soaked, and reused. Alton likes the fact that the fish won’t stick to the grill, picks up a subtle smoky flavor from the wood, and produces no dirty dishes – he eats his fish right from the plank!

Doctors recommend oily fish because they contain vitamins A and D, and polyunsaturated Omega-3 fatty acids. These nutrients protect the heart, regulate the heart beat and even fight off prostate cancer. Or, put more simply, they fend of... well, you know (as ominous music swells, the Grim Reaper glides eerily by behind Alton).

When selecting oily fish, bigger is not always better – Alton pulls an iced container of smelt from his chill chest. Smelt, like most salmon family fish, are anadromous. That is, they live in salt water but migrate to fresh water to spawn. When spawning time comes they contain so much oil that people once dried them and used them for light. This is how they came by the name “candle fish.” Simple cooking techniques serve them best, and to Alton that means frying.

He sets up a fry station outside, consisting of a dredge zone, a fry zone and a draining zone. The fry zone is a cast iron skillet with enough peanut oil to cover the bottom of the pan, over medium high heat. The oil should shimmer. First, each fish gets a dip in lemon juice and then goes into a dredge of breadcrumbs spiced with kosher salt and pepper. Alton grinds his bread crumbs from the crust of French bread. Three fish go into the crumbs at a time. Then Alton covers the container and tosses the fish to coat them. Store bought bread crumbs will work, but Alton recommends against one of his perennial favorites, panko bread crumbs, which are too “clumpy” for this application. Alton carefully adds the coated fish to the pan, rolling them in away from him to minimize back spatter, and then cooks them three to four minutes on each side until golden brown and delicious. He removes them and finishes with a bit more salt and lemon juice.

Alton hopes he’s given viewers what they need to tackle whole fish (he looks around nervously as violins begin to shriek and the camera pulls back to reveal the other diners – clowns!) Whole fish, unlike clowns, are nothing to be afraid of! Right? Right?!?

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