Rockfish Meunière on Whole Wheat Pasta

Posted on July 16, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

A fillet prepared à la meunière and served on pasta is one of our favorites when cooking with firm, delicately flavored white fish. We modify the traditional recipe, which means “miller’s wife” (descriptive of the flour this method employs) by using olive oil instead of butter and by skipping the lemon and butter finishing sauce.

Our three favorite methods for preparing fish, in no particular order, are as follows: sashimi – raw, thinly sliced fish dipped in a soy sauce and wasabi mixture; shioyaki – fish salted and then broiled or grilled; and à la meunière – dredged in seasoned flour and pan fried. These three preparation methods are the epitome of simplicity, emphasizing the freshness of the fish rather than sauces or seasonings, and can be accomplished in even the most bare-bones of kitchens. While they won’t adequately cover every species of fish (some species do well only when poached, and a few others shine best when deep fried), they are good methods to have in one’s repertoire.

A collar – the meat just behind the fish’s head, including the pectoral and ventral fins – is a good candidate for meunière. Pictured is the collar from a two to three pound yelloweye rockfish.

Each cooking method works particularly well with certain species of fish. Chinook salmon, for example, is a superb fish for shioyaki and a much underutilized sashimi fish. Yellowtail and other tuna are excellent served as sashimi. When you think of meunière, think of fish that is white, firm but not dense, and mildly or even delicately flavored. Some of the best candidates are sole, flounder, greenling and Pacific rockfish in the genus Sebastes such as black rockfish, copper rockfish, yelloweye and so forth.

Rockfish à la Meunière on Pasta for Two

Ingredients:

two fish fillets 1/4 to 1/2 pounds each (110 to 230 grams), cleaned, skin removed, rinsed and patted dry with paper towels. Do not use a thick cut of fish for this. The fillets should be fairly thin – less than an inch thick (2.5 cm) as opposed to using part of a fillet from a large fish.
1/3 cup semolina flour. (All-purpose or other flour is fine, but semolina will result in a very pleasant additional crunch and fuller texture to the finished fillet.)
1/2 tablespoon herbs de Provence, plus 1 teaspoon herbs de Provence, separate
1/8 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked pepper
3 to 6 cloves of garlic, sliced thin
2 tablespoons pine nuts (optional)
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
olive oil for frying
enough pasta for two servings

Directions:

Cook pasta according to directions. Drain off water, return to pot and toss with about 1 tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil and 1 teaspoon herbs de Provence. Set aside. (Or do this simultaneously while cooking the fish.)
In a plastic Ziplock bag, or in a mixing bowl or on a plate, mix together the flour, 1/2 tablespoons herbs de Provence, salt and freshly ground pepper.
Thoroughly dredge the fillets in the flour mixture and set aside on a plate or cutting board. Left over flour can be used as a bed for the fillets.
In a frying pan large enough to hold both fillets, add olive oil to about 1/8 inch depth. Heat over medium to medium-low until oil causes a pinch of flour to sizzle.
Position fillets in pan making sure they do not touch. Cook uncovered over medium to medium-low heat for about 3 to 5 minutes.
Carefully turn the fillets over. Add garlic slices and pine nuts and continue cooking for 3 to 5 minutes. The first few times you cook fish this way, you may have to break the fillets apart to check for doneness as it will vary depending on thickness, type of fish and cooking temperature.
Place pasta on dinner plates. Remove fillets from pan and place on pasta. Use a slotted spoon to separate garlic and pine nuts from oil and sprinkle on fish and pasta.
Serve hot with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

We served the pasta and fillet with a side of fish collars, also prepared à la meunière, and brussels sprouts sliced in half, seasoned with salt and pepper, and pan roasted. This is a simple yet elegant meal that can be prepared in a galley, on a camp stove, or in virtually any kitchen.

Most Excellent Nachos

Posted on July 15, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

A heavy skillet, a bag of your favorite tortilla chips, salsa spiced up with jalapenos, medium cheddar cheese and an already-roasted chicken from the supermarket are all you need for the best nachos you’ve ever had!

By the time we were finished cleaning fish yesterday, it was already close to five o’clock. Tired, hungry and in dire need of a beer (or three), we had J-Dock vacuum pack and flash freeze our fillets, absent-mindedly forgetting to set aside a piece of salmon for ourselves for dinner. We’d fished hard and filled our cooler, and neither one of us was keen to cook. “How about super nachos?” Barbra suggested. “We could get one of those roasted chickens at Safeway….”

“And a case of beer,” I added.

We already had everything else we needed: medium-aged Tillamook cheddar cheese, sliced jalapeno peppers, Newman’s Own salsa, and Mission tortilla chips. Here’s all there is to it.

Pick a heavy frying pan, one that heats evenly and won’t burn the chips. Pour in a little olive oil, turn the heat to low or medium low, and when it’s hot, put in a layer of chips followed by a layer of cheese, a few spoonfuls of salsa, a few jalapenos sliced thin or diced fine (cook’s choice), and a generous amount of chunks of roasted chicken. Lay down a second layer of chips, cheese, salsa jalapenos and chicken, cover the pan with a lid, and cook over low heat till all the cheese is melted. Add a couple dollops of sour cream or guacamole when it’s all done if you want, serve it right in the pan, and keep the beers coming. Pop in a movie and eat and drink more than you should.

I had a few black beans on hand and added those this time, but usually I make this with no beans. This dish is great without the chicken (or any other meat), too. Next time I make this, I’m going to use rockfish and see how that goes. Future experiments might include caribou, moose or ground black bear.

Holster the Pistol, Take a Breath, Try it Again

Posted on July 7, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

To the uninitiated, this photo may appear to be unremarkable. It’s a boat, tied to a dock. But this photo represents accomplishment and progress in small but important details in our seamanship. (We’re awaiting arrival of the new name letters we’ve ordered for the stern.)

The first time we docked Bandon, we were assigned a generously long, open slip at the end of H Dock in Seward. Nonetheless, having never docked a sailboat on our own before, bringing it in was intimidating. The boat’s 35 feet seemed to morph into 350 feet, and although there probably weren’t more than a handful of onlookers, it felt like we were in the middle of the Super Dome on Super Bowl Sunday, hearts in our throats.

There’s an art to docking, and some boats are easier to maneuver than others. Features such as twin engines and bow thrusters, which our Island Packet does not have, make precision docking easier. Features such as a full keel – which renders it all but impossible to turn the stern when in reverse – make the job more challenging. And then there are the prevailing winds pushing on the bow during the docking procedure, and the inevitable audience that inexperience seems to draw.

But the last time we brought the boat in – after a three-day cruise around Resurrection Bay – we managed to line it up and back it in… if not perfectly, at least competently. It felt good to make obvious progress with yet another aspect of seamanship. And there’s a real pay-off to docking stern first in our assigned slip: the prevailing winds are such that in the evening when we’re relaxing in our cockpit, the dodger (the canvas and clear vinyl hood above the companionway) acts as a windshield when the bow’s pointing south.

Take a walk along most docks, and it soon becomes evident that there are any number of ways to secure a boat to a horn cleat. Some work better than others. You don’t want to create a knot that might jam, but you don’t want a knot that will slip, either. The first few times we tied off, we pretty much guessed at what we were doing – resulting in the beginner’s mistake of too many wraps, and too many hitches. Now we get it: a couple turns of the line across the horns finished with a single weather hitch is both tidy and secure.

As with many things in life, if you’ve never been shown how to do something – including how to begin the task, what the process looks and feels like, and how the end product should appear – even simple tasks can prove challenging. Is this what it’s supposed to look like? and Why is this so difficult? become frequent refrains. Often times manuals appear to be written and illustrated for people who already have some expertise or background in the subject and make little sense until after you’ve figured out how something works.

Barbra rebedding a chainplate for the second time – the first go at it having gone quite wrong. We still may not have gotten it right, and will give it another go till we seal up the rain leak we’ve been trying to chase down.

There’s nothing like having access to a patient, knowledgable mentor to walk one through the steps of new tasks – and to do so as often as needed until the task is mastered. But most of the time, a combination of self-study, intuition, trial and error and a willingness to occasionally screw up and break things suffices instead. The first time we set the anchor, I wanted to pull out a pistol and shoot the whole system in the fashion of General George Patton shooting a jeep that wouldn’t start. The windlass repeatedly jammed, we had a heck of a time holding the boat in position and for the life of us, we could not figure out when the anchor was on the bottom as the chain, heavy and dense, hung straight down from the bow. We put the engine in reverse, backed up until the chain went taut and our movement stopped, and then spent a fitful night worrying that the anchor wasn’t set at all and we’d wake up to find our boat grounded.

But the anchor held, and the next morning it came up with chunks of clay and mud clinging to it, indicating it had dug in just as it should have. The next time we set the anchor, the process went smoothly… leaving us wondering how in the world it could have been so difficult the first time.

And so it goes. With a lot of what we do, the first attempt is chaotic, filled with uncertainty and error and no small amount of frustration. But we think and communicate and debrief, and subsequent attempts go more smoothly and fill us with satisfaction and, yes, pride.

Each new thing we learn is a new thing we’ve learned. This summer, our task has been to begin to master some of the most basic elements of sailing, seamanship and boat care. The learning curve, for us, is steep. But by taking things in small steps, it seems achievable. Looking into the future, it is apparent that in sailing, we have found a pass-time and a lifestyle in which there will be no end to additional skills to master, knowledge to acquire, and experiences to cherish. That’s what drew us to this in the first place.

Knots are essential to sailing, and the bowline (above) is a classic with multiple uses. After consecutively tying this knot dozens of times, either one of us could probably tie it in our sleep.

Seward Yacht Club – Swimming Pools, Movie Stars

Posted on June 26, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Seward’s small boat harbor viewed from the second floor balcony of the William H. Seward Yacht Club.

For either one of us, if, back when we were in our teens or twenties and trying to figure out life, someone had told us we’d own a blue water capable sailboat and belong to a yacht club, we’d have thought to ourselves, “Sure. Can I have some of whatever you’re smoking?”

But the Seward Yacht Club fits. Upon becoming members, we were happy to set aside any preconceived notions about “yacht” owners and to simply fall in with a group of really great (generous, hard-working, helpful, welcoming) people who are bound together by a love of boats and water.

Bikes and the live-aboard lifestyle often go together – this one is parked at the Seward yacht club. It’s nice to belong to a club where the dandelions are left to grow.

In addition to camaraderie, the club provides its members and their guests with showers, a nice kitchen in which to cook a meal, and a fairly extensive library on things nautical.

The small boat harbor at Seward mirrors the yacht club. Boats of all sizes are docked here. A lot of them belong to working fisherman – both guides and commercial fishermen. A lot of the boats belong to people who just plain like water and boats and fishing and have worked hard and been careful with their money, anticipating the day when they could own a boat. It doesn’t seem to matter who you are, where you come from, what kind of boat you have, or what you do on it. People pass each other and most offer a friendly greeting. People take care of their own boats and keep an eye on their neighbors’. It’s a community. Reminds me of the best parts of the small town in western Pennsylvania where I grew up.

Wish there were more places like it.

The Sky Over Resurrection Bay and Thoughts from Thoreau

Posted on June 23, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

At the end of a warm day, the sun slips down behind the mountains overlooking Resurrection Bay, and even before we notice the light dimming, we can feel the warmth leaving our home in our sailboat on the bay.

Barbra took these photos a few nights ago as we were running home from an evening of fishing of Resurrection Bay, Alaska.

“The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels. How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity! I did not wish to take a cabin passage, but rather to go before the mast and on the deck of the world, for there I could best see the moonlight amid the mountains.” Henry Thoreau in Walden

“Every path but your own is the path of fate. Keep on your own track, then.” Henry Thoreau in Walden

Yelloweye Rockfish Benedict: Alaskan Breakfast of Champions

Posted on June 21, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Freshly cracked pepper, sea salt and maybe a dash of soy sauce are all the seasoning freshly caught yelloweye want. Topped with hollandaise sauce and served on pan-toasted English muffins with sides of thick bacon, summer squash, ruby red grapefruit and ruby red mimosas, this is the kind of breakfast that makes you happy you’re a fisherman – or married to one!

Like single malt Scotch and country drives in autumn, when it comes to table fare there are no bad rockfish. But within genus Sebastes, some cook up better than others. In Japan, small but tasty mebaru (Sebastes inermis) are among the most highly prized fish wherever they are found. Here in Alaska, yelloweye (Sebastes ruberrimus), which can grow to over 30 inches (80 centimeters) and 20 pounds (9 kilograms) are the stars. The sweet, delicately flavored meat puffs up slightly when cooked and flakes off in large, firm chunks for a taste and texture that is unparalleled among rockfish.

When preparing fillets this way, a good rule of thumb is nine minutes per one inch of thickness, thus a fillet one inch thick will be cooked for about nine minutes.

I pan toast English muffins (or any other toast) by using about three parts olive oil to one part butter (or no butter at all) over low to medium-low heat in a heavy frying pan. Heat the oil, add the bread, toast, flip and do the other side. This produces tasty toast, and you can do it in any kitchen, over a Coleman stove, or in a galley.

Yelloweye Rockfish Benedict

Ingredients:

1 rockfish fillet about 3/4 lb to 1 lb, cut in half to serve 2 people. We generally prefer our fillets scaled, skin on. (Skin removed is fine.)
salt
pepper
soy sauce (optional)
olive oil
3 egg yolks
4 tbsp butter
1 tbsp lemon juice
healthy pinch or two of cayenne pepper (or mildly fiery chili-based seasoning such as the Southwestern rubs made by Penzys or Dean & Deluca)
2 English muffins, sliced in half, toasted

Directions:

For Hollandaise:

Melt butter in a small pan over low heat.
Set up a double boiler by putting some water in a pot and bring it to boil. In a smaller pot, place egg yolks and lemon juice. Place this smaller pan in the larger pot, but not in the water. The steam will heat the smaller pot.
Vigorously whisk the egg and lemon mixture until it increases in volume.
Slowly drizzle the melted butter into the whisked egg mixture, add a pinch of slat, and continue to whisk until everything is blended.
Set aside. This mixture can be warmed again, if necessary. If it’s too thick, whisk in a few drops of water. Too thin, cook more, being sure to continue whisking/stirring.

To cook the rockfish:

Rinse the fillets, pat dry with paper towels, and place on a cutting board, skin side down. Add freshly cracked pepper and sea salt and set aside.
In a skillet large enough to hold the fillets so that they don’t touch, place enough olive oil to liberally cover the bottom of the pan and heat over medium-low heat.
When the oil is hot enough to make the fish sizzle, add the fillets skin side down. Cook for 5 minutes.
Turn the fillets and sprinkle with salt and freshly cracked pepper. Add about 1/2 tablespoon of soy sauce (optional) and continue cooking for 4 minutes.

To serve:

Place toasted English muffins on plates, place the fillets on the muffins, and spoon on the Hollandaise. Sprinkle on a dusting of cayenne pepper or a similarly fiery pepper-based rub. Serve with seasonal vegetables. We enjoyed this meal with mimosas made with freshly-squeezed ruby red grapefruit.

Under Pressure: Delicious, Fast, Green Cooking

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Pressure cooking is new to us, but we’re fast becoming converts. We made this one-pot-meal of two large pork chops, Peruvian potatoes and onions in about half the time the same meal would have taken in frying pan. In addition to cutting cooking time, pressure cooking requires less fuel than traditional methods.

Our first foray into pressure cooking involved one of our breakfast staples: steel cut oats. This is a new food for us, and now that we know what they are, it’s been a little tough to go back to quick rolled oats. But the time required is a deal-breaker on workdays. From start to finish, it takes about 35 minutes to cook up a couple servings of steel cut oats.

Enter the pressure cooker. These are not at all like crock pots or slow cookers – just the opposite. By sealing in steam pressure, these pans and pots speed up cooking time. As pressure rises, so does heat inside the pan. After some trial and error, I now have the preparation time for steel cut oats cut down to 17 minutes – and I think I may be able to bring the time down even further. Not only is the time cut in half, so is fuel consumption. Once the cooker is pressurized, the cooking flame can be cut back to low or even turned off altogether for up to 70% fuel savings over traditional cooking methods.

Also, since very little steam escapes during the cooking process, less water is required. This could prove to be valuable when sailing or boondocking. Less oil or cooking fat is required, too, and cooked under pressure, meats and certain vegetables that can be a little tough come out tender without being overcooked.

Years ago, I had heard that pressure cooking could be dangerous. Makes sense: hot steam, very high temperatures, pressure. I had an image of pan lids rocketing through kitchen ceilings. But whatever the risks involved with this cooking method may have been in the past, modern pressure cookers have addressed them. We purchased a two-and-a-half quart pan made by Kuhn Rikon, a Swiss company known for quality cookware. Engineered with safety in mind, the pan is made from heavy gauge stainless steel and features multiple pressure release systems to prevent over-pressurizing.

The real test came the other night when I attempted a one-pan meal for the two of us. I had two nice pork chops, some small red, white and purple Peruvian potatoes, and half a sweet onion chopped coarse. I seasoned all this with good old salt and pepper, heated a little olive oil over high heat in the pressure cooker, browned the chops for a minute on each side and then added a quarter cup of water (for steam). Then the potatoes and onions went in, I locked the lid in place, and…

Voila!

Seven minutes later we had a beautifully cooked meal. The meat was cooked through and juicy, the potatoes were just right, and we had just one pan to clean up! (And nothing was stuck to the pan.)

The meat lacked the crispy outer texture straight pan-fyring gives, but searing the meat prior to pressurizing it seemed to seal it well enough. Once pressure had built in the pan, I was able to lower the flame to low and then to turn off the heat altogether, so I’m guessing I used only two-thirds to one-half the propane I’d have used had I prepared the meal in a frying pan.

Small House Living: Island Packet 350 Interior

Posted on June 13, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Below and behind the cushions of this settee is tons of storage space. The settee itself can be reconfigured to make a comfortable twin-sized bed. Aft of the settee (to the right) is a U-shaped galley complete with double basin sink, two burner stove, a deep cooler, and more storage space.

An element of campers and boats that fascinates us is how they are put together inside. The miniature stoves and heaters, ingeniously built-in storage spaces, cabinet doors that cleverly fold out into full-sized tables, and settees that work like jigsaw puzzles to convert into beds are perfect marriages of ingenuity meeting practicality. More than that, in many instances boat and camper interiors are beautiful, replete with richly textured wood, stainless steel and brass, and finely crafted finishing touches.

Below, the salon looking forward, on the left with the table up, on the right with the table down. The table has a folding leaf which, when opened, allows the port (left) settee to be used as dining seating as well. (Click on photos for larger view.)

Before we got into boats and campers, we had been researching small-house design. In fact, our craftsman-style bungalow in California, built in 1908, in many ways seems to have anticipated the small-house movement. With just 1,200 square feet of living space and features such as a space-saving Jack-and-Jill bathroom and built-in custom-crafted cabinetry, the E Street house is right in step with the small-house philosophy.

Bandon’s head has a porthole and skylight for plenty of natural lighting, and there’s ample elbow room. Forward (to the left) is a shower head. Separate doors alow for access from both the forward stateroom and the main salon.

One benefit of living in a relatively small space is that they don’t require much energy to heat up, cool off, or light. For example, a rooftop solar panel provides almost all the electrical energy we need in our camper, and we anticipate that once we install solar panels onboard Bandon and change the incandescent lighting over to LED, we’ll be able to live off the grid in our boat.

Above: The forward cabin features a comfortable full-size bed, a hanging locker, three cupboards, and additional storage in holds beneath the bed. Below: The aft cabin features another double bed and similar storage.

Another happy consequence of downsizing is that it has prompted us to examine how much stuff we acquire, hold onto and end up having to store or dust. We’ve discovered that as we pare away material possessions, the things we do have tend to better fit our lives in terms of form and function; with limited amounts of shelves, closets, cupboards and drawers, we do our best to only bring things into our lives that are particularly useful, durable, interesting or beautiful, whether the item is a piece of art, a set of dishes, or a cheese grater.

Above: Bandon’s galley is a U-shape favored by many sailors, providing a tight configuration where the cook can wedge in a keep the crew fed in rolling seas. A 100-gallon water tank provides water by both an electric pump and a hand pump. The two-burner stove runs on propane. Aft (to the right) is a deep ice chest accessed through the countertop. Below right: Dinner plates and bowls stay secure in purpose-build slotted cupboards.

How much space is enough is, of course, a personal matter. Onboard Bandon, we don’t have large clothing wardrobes or a rack full of pots and pans, and when we finish reading a book, it’ll go to friends or be sold back to the bookstore. Bandon has no TV, we removed the microwave oven, and we do our laundry at the local laundromat. When we want to watch a TV show or movie, we download it onto our computer or pop in a disc; microwave ovens haven’t been part of our kitchen for many years now; and our local laundromat is a cheerful place in town where we can browse shops or catch up on reading while taking care of laundry.

We’ve been pleased to note how little fuel, electricity and water we’re consuming. Early experiments with our new pressure cooker indicate that we will be able to cut water and fuel use even further.

Let there be Fire

Posted on June 10, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

The first order of business before moving aboard Bandon was getting the heat going. That meant figuring out the boat’s Dickinson diesel heater – which proved to be no problem. Our Dickinson Newport uses fuel sparingly, burns clean, and provides plenty of warmth for our 35-foot boat.

Although it’s warmed up a bit, last week nighttime temperatures were still dipping into the high 30’s and low 40’s. Cold. And although the cabin traps solar heat, as soon as the sun dips below the mountains surrounding Resurrection Bay, it gets pretty chilly.

We’d never used a diesel heater before, but Barbra jumped right in and had it figured out in short order. We soon discovered that in addition to warming up the cabin, the heater does a good job keeping it dry.

Cool sailing ship on the heater – no idea regarding the story behind it.

It’s like having a miniature fireplace onboard – cozy and downright romantic. And there’s just enough room on top of the heater to, say, cook a couple of sweet potatoes or get a small kettle of water ready for tea.

In business since 1932, the Dickinson company is located in Surrey, British Columbia. Handmade, Dickinson products are respected for their reliability and ruggedness.

A Good Day Sailing

Posted on June 8, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

We took advantage of beautiful weather yesterday to do some sailing on Resurrection Bay. Dall porpoises showed up around our boat as usual and several times we saw salmon leaping. Maia got her first experience at the helm of a sailboat.