This post has been sitting in my drafts folder for a while now and I figured it is time to let it soar in the wilderness of internet, especially given that a handful of readers have recently come to know of my existence, mostly thanks to Popo…and perhaps also partly due to my own cheap marketing tactics *cough* students *cough*.
The keen reader will remark that this text looks oddly random. At least more random than my other posts. And the keen reader would be absolutely right because the main reason for me writing about fish was the picture that was already there on the Wix sample page when I first signed up. One may thus call this post a picture-driven reflection. Without much further ado, let’s dive into the matter (pun intended).
I have the firm belief that food is magickal. It has immense power to bring emotions, memories, souvenirs; it can bring people together, it can spark joy and awe. And one of the food items that fascinates me is fish (and everything the Ocean blesses us with).
Fish can have a bit of a divisive reputation to say the least. Much of it is underserved, or extrapolated from isolated bad experiences. If fresh fish can be eaten raw, in the form of sashimi or maki, or ever so lightly prepared in ceviche, there is little that can go wrong with any type of preparation provided the fish has not been sitting at room temperature for weeks. Even then, fermented fish is something to behold. I remember my uncle saying something like:
”Did you know they make fish sauce with rotten fish? That’s disgusting” [E, to ti kone ki sa zafer fish sauce-la fer avek pwason pouri? Mari malang sa ta].
Ohhhh dear. What a life-changing discovery…framing fermentation as rotting. While there is some technical truth behind the principle of fermentation as being a form of decomposition, it is hard to disagree that this was not the best of ways to describe things, especially considering the pejorative connotations and innuendos behind this statement. The end result of these micro-organisms going about their business is truly a pungent masterpiece. An umami bomb.
Speaking of umami, one of the most beautiful inventions in Japanese cuisine, and by extension, the whole culinary universe is Hon-dashi. It should come as no surprise that the Japanese are fish fans, sometimes in extreme, ways. Ethical debates aside, they produced something unique in Hon-dashi (there is also kombu dashi, the vegan version which is just as good). This fermented powder, made of dried bonito, is the epitome of umami. A few teaspoons in a simple vegetable bouillon redefines the whole dish. It brings a distinctively savoury, irresistibly more-ish taste to the blandest of preparations. As a matter of fact, one of my favourite meals is a bowl of dashi bouillon with jasmine rice. Deceptively simple, yet unbelievably delicious.
Coming back to fish, it also happens to be my favourite source of protein. I prefer a good steak of tuna over any other protein. Even though I grew up with fish, it has become a bit of a paradox that it is so expensive in an island like Mauritius. I won’t delve into the depressing socio-economic issues that are affecting this side of the industry, but things don’t look great. At any rate, fish has the power to elevate the taste of everything that it accompanies (umami, again, always). I know many people who would be more than happy eating a plate of rice with just the curry sauce the fish has been cooked in, or eat only the rice and potatoes in a fish biryani. I went to a formal lunch one day when I was an undergraduate student and the main course consisted of rice, lentils, and a very strong, potent fish vindaye. It was a real feast, despite not fitting in the ‘fancy’ I-just-obtained-a-scholarship-lunch category.
The simpler pleasures of island life, past and present, are condensed in one of the emblematic local meals: diri, bouyon, pwason sale, satini pomdeter (rice, bouillon, salted fish, potato ‘chutney’), with the centrepiece being the pwason sale (salted fish) of course. Also known as ‘sounouk’ - which I assume is related to the South African Snoek - salted fish has been a stable of Mauritian cuisine for as long as I can remember. It was affordable, readily available and did not require any particular storage facilities. As such, it was not eaten as a proper protein, but almost as a condiment that elevates the taste of the other preparations. Again, salted fish means concentrated glutamic acid, which means concentrated umami. And nothing more was needed for a soul-warming meal. And this is still the case.
I could go on an on about fish but I will stop here for this post. What matters the most, though, is to consume fish responsibly. Our oceans are obscenely over-exploited in unimaginable ways and it is fundamental to be aware of the impact of our consumption patters on the health of our oceans. It‘s not about appeal to guilt, far form it. By all means, let’s enjoy our fish as much as we want. But let’s do it in as much of a non-destructive way as we are able to afford.
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