Chuck Charlie: A Life-Changing Tuna Recipe

Sorry to re-use a headline—c'mon, it was from 2009—but in this case it applies in spades. This recipe for tuna, Oregon albacore, actually, is so good you may never buy the canned stuff again. And I hate to say it, but even the locally processed, line and pole-caught stuff in jars can't hold a candle to its silky moistness.

I'll admit that the beginnings of this one particular piece of fish weren't all that pretty. We always try to buy a whole albacore when it goes on sale at the beginning of the season, but at some point in the past I forgot to write the purchase date on the packages containing the loins. Apparently this particular loin had been buried in the freezer for a year-and-a-half or so, and by the time I pulled it out and thawed it, I saw the damage…freezer burn on most of the surfaces. Figuring I had nothing to lose at this point, I started shaving off the burned bits, thankfully revealing the lovely pink flesh below. Whew!

A whole loin is about two pounds of fish, so after cutting it in four chunks, I rolled it in some herbs, garlic and salt and put it in a dish on the counter to marinate for a couple of hours. Then all it took was transfering the pieces to a saucepan and pouring in a decent-but-inexpensive olive oil to cover.

The next part was critical, though…you want to heat the oil sloooooooooowly. Apparently if the oil is heated too quickly, the surface of the fish seizes and the flesh turns out dry and hard like you often find in canned tuna. But cooked properly, it's terrific on its own as a tapas-style appetizer, or it can be mixed with pasta and grains for a stunning main dish. You could also make it into what will be the most amazing tuna sandwich you've ever had. Use your imagination!

Albacore Tuna Confit

1 tuna loin, trimmed of blood line and skin
2 tsp. kosher salt
1/4 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. red chili flakes
1 tsp. dried thyme
4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed in a garlic press
Zest of 1/2 lemon
3-4 c. decent quality olive oil

Cut trimmed loin in four pieces. In a shallow pan, mix salt, chili flakes, thyme, garlic and lemon zest. Roll tuna pieces in the spice mixture, making sure to cover all surfaces (this doesn't have to be thick, it's just a rub). Place in dish on counter for at least a couple of hours or covered in the fridge if you're marinating it longer.

Place fish pieces in a saucepan and cover with oil. Put over very low heat and, using an instant-read thermometer, slowly raise the temperature to between 140-150°. Maintain temperature for three to ten minutes, or until the center of the thickest piece is almost cooked through. (You can use a fork or knife for this purpose.) Turn off heat and allow the oil to cool. Remove fish from oil. Strain remaining oil through a fine mesh sieve.

If you're not using all the fish right away, place it in a container that has a tight-fitting lid. Cover the fish with the strained oil and seal. It will keep in the fridge in its oil for a couple of weeks. Any remaining oil can be used for dressings or other purposes—it has a fantastic flavor!

For more information on Oregon albacore, read "Oregon Albacore A to Z."

Simply Stunning

The best restaurant in Portland isn't even a real restaurant. It's kind of a café, a bit of a bistro. But it's actually more of a showcase for the products carried by the grocery store next door, albeit one of the better grocery stores in the city with a mix of imported foods and wine, as well as produce, a meat vendor and a cheese shop.

Kevin in the "kitchen."

Evoe doesn't even have a kitchen, at least one that most chefs would recognize or deign to work in. No big stove, no grill, no stations, no harried staff lorded over by a red-faced, screaming ogre, it just has a couple of plug-in griddles and hot plates, and only recently got an (electric) stove. Its main feature is a large wooden butcher block table with a few stools around it.

And it's not just the food that Kevin Gibson conjures from simple, seasonal ingredients that makes it the best in town, but also its unassuming simplicity and incredible value. The day's offerings are written on tall blackboards posted high on the walls, with Kevin basically standing at the wooden table and whipping out the smartest, most beautiful food you'll find anywhere.

Tiny Kusshi oysters.

If you're lucky you can sit across from him at that table, squeezed between the day's to-go sandwiches and within snagging distance of a gorgeous leg of serrano ham (hoof on), with a front row seat to watch Mr. Gibson as he slices, showers and mixes.

Endive pear salad.

This trip we started with a half dozen Kusshi oysters from British Columbia, their creamy texture and almost cheese-like taste afloat in a clean, salty brine. Accompanied by a shave of fresh-off-the-root horseradish and a few drops of Meyer lemon, these were sublime.

Artichoke, fennel and pancetta salad.

Then we watched as Kevin tore apart a head of endive, thin-sliced a little red pear, crushed a few hazelnuts and mixed them with his hands in a bowl. A sprinkling of vinegar and oil from the shelf behind him, a few crumbles of roquefort and our salad was done. Then it was time for an artichoke, fennel and pancetta salad made from baby artichokes that he peeled and sliced on the board and threw in a bowl with translucent shavings of fennel from his trusty mandoline, tossed with more dressing ingredients and topped with wafers of fried pancetta that shattered into a hundred pieces when touched with a fork.

The coups de grâce came with his signature duck confit on frisée (top), the bronzed and crispy skin giving way to the meltingly moist meat. This is duck you'll want to suck off the bone until every last little shred is gone, then long for until the next time you're wise enough to choose this place over so many other, lesser places in town.

Details: Evoe, 3731 S.E. Hawthorne Blvd. Phone 503-232-1010.

Primitive Cooking? I'd Say Not!

Our neighbor Jim Dixon, writer, olive oil and salt importer and, now, yurt pioneer, just got a great write-up in MIX magazine. Jim sent the following to his customers and gave GSNW permission to reprint it. Happy Thanksgiving!

Turkey Confit

I based this on a recipe from Saveur. It called for using the legs and wings from a whole turkey you’d cut up as an alternative to roasting intact. The breast was boned, pounded thin, stuffed with the same kind of dressing you usually make at Thanksgiving, rolled, tied, and roasted. Sounds okay, but too much work for the most boring part of the bird. I just bought some turkey thighs at New Seasons (one of the best deals in the meat case, but call ahead to make sure they have some). The ones I got were huge, from 25 lb. birds, and weighed about 2 pounds each. I also bought duck fat at New Seasons but, again, call first because they don’t always have it in stock. I’ve also seen recipes that use olive oil, and if you go that route you can save and reuse the oil for cooking.

I gave the thighs a good dusting of sea salt and freshly ground pepper on both sides. The Saveur recipe called for sage, thyme and ground bay leaf, but I wanted a more straightforward flavor. I left them in a baking pan in a single layer in the refrigerator overnight, uncovered.

I melted 3 lbs. of duck fat on the stove (it comes in one pound tubs, which are probably a little less than a quart), then carefully poured it over the thighs. They weren’t totally covered, but nearly. The pan, tightly covered with foil, went into a 300° oven for about 3.5 hours.

I let them cool a bit, then transferred the thighs to Cambros (the plastic containers used in food service...Cambro is the brand name, and that’s what everybody calls them...you can buy smallish versions at restaurant supply stores such as Boxer NW [438 NW Broadway - KAB]). I poured in some of the duck fat, then used another container to save the rest. The fat and juices will separate as it cools, and I’ll save the fat to use again (everything cooked in duck fat is delicious).

We’ll crisp the thighs in the fat in hot skillet up at the yurt on Thanksgiving, but I did sneak a small bite as I was putting them away. Delicious!

Photo from MIX magazine.