Eye to Eye

This week's topic is something of a perennial issue here at OHC. It's one of those culinary hangups I have, and I can't seem, no matter how often I air my grievances, to completely get over it. The truth is I have a problem with a certain, fundamental attitude most people have towards food, and since neither attitude nor outrage are likely to change, I'm predisposed to angry outbursts. This time around it was a serve of school prawns that set me off. School prawns, for those unfamiliar, are tiny little prawns (shrimp, in the most literal sense) are typically fried and served whole; you are meant to eat the shells and heads and all. They are crunchy and taste intensely of shellfish. Delicious. I do understand, however, that eating whole baby shrimp might be challenging for some people. I get that. In fact, I understand this so well I make sure that every customer who orders the school prawn starter is told exactly what they are getting. Most recently, it was one such conversation that set me off.



“I don't like to eat things that look like the things they are.”

This, you see, was the response I received after describing the prawn stater to a patron. She cited the recognition of the animal she was consuming as reason to stop eating it. Which is when my rage kicks in. You don't like meat that looks like an animal? You don't want to think about what your food is, what you are eating? Why not? Facetiously, I inquired “What if I were to fashion a bit of chicken into the shape of a fish, so that it looked exactly like a fish, would you eat that?” No answer. This is why Chefs are not generally encouraged to talk to the customers.

Recently, one of my wife's coworkers pointed to her quail lunch and proclaimed: “those poor little baby birds never had a chance!” No, they didn't (and they are not babies). Neither, however, did the doe-eyed cow you ate for supper last night. I really don't understand the disconnect. I do understand that it is slightly harder to imagine that the pork in your sausage was once an animal, but only slightly. People will gladly tuck into a burger, but balk at quail? Insanity.



On another occasion I was serving whole sole, a delicious flat fish, at a bistro I worked in. The preparation was so simple, panfried whole fish with brown butter, capers, and lemon. In the middle of a busy Saturday lunch a customer brought back a her sole seconds after I had sent it. “I can't eat this. It has a face.” I mustered all my customer service skills and replied: “Lady, all the meat you eat had a face.” “Well, I shouldn't have to see it.” Of course not. Meat comes in packets, not from animals.

These are obviously hyperbolic examples, but the truth is people are disconnected from the source of their food, and tend to look at meat at a product not as a creature. I think the most responsible thing you could do is to look your next meal in the eye, so to speak, and imagine what it was, and what it means that you are eating it. And then enjoy, for the love of god.



Whole Flounder with Capers, Brown Butter, and Lemon

I know I mentioned sole above, but sole wasn't available at the fish market this morning. Flounder, a perfectly suitable substitute, was. This fish needs little attention or fuss in the cooking; it is naturally sweet and delicious. A good part of the fun is in the eating – delicately removing all the flesh from the bones.

2 flounder, fins all trimmed close to the body with scissors
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp salted capers
lemon wedges

Soak the capers in a bit of water to remove excess salt. Drain. Heat a large, non-stick fry pan over high heat. When the pan is quite hot, pour in a couple of tablespoons of oil. Wait until this is smoking and then season the fish liberally with salt and pepper. Slide the fish into the pan, giving a little juggle to keep the skin from sticking. Cook for about 4 minutes and then flip the fish, taking care not to break it up. Continue cooking for another 3-4 minutes and then add the butter and capers to the pan. The butter will foam up, crisp the capers, and eventually subside and begin to brown. Remove the pan fro the heat at this point and serve the fish topped with the capers and butter with a lemon wedge on the side.