Guest Essay: Seafood Trade Wars

Lyf Gildersleeve, owner of Flying Fish Company, a sustainable seafood retailer in Providore Fine Foods, is a second-generation fishmonger and a vocal advocate for national fisheries policy. This is a guest post he wrote for the Marine Fish Conservation Network, a coalition of fishermen, conservationists, scientists and citizens around a mission to conserve and revitalize wild ocean fisheries.

In a time when government deregulation is rampant and environmental protections are getting tossed out the window, the U.S. has a seafood trade deficit that could be improving—that is, if American consumers are willing learn about where their food is coming from, and if consumers are willing to pay a fair price for seafood harvested and produced in the U.S.

Most of Oregon's fish are exported rather than consumed domestically.

Currently we import over 90 percent of the seafood we consume in America. More than 50 percent of those imports are farm-raised in unsustainable environmental conditions. Only two percent of these imports get tested for toxic residuals. That means that in 2015, 5.4 billion pounds of seafood entered our distribution channels without being tested for toxic chemicals. Most of the imported produce and seafood rejected in these random border inspections was cited for the appearance of potentially dangerous adulteration, including the presence of pathogens, illegal pesticides, chemicals and other sanitary violations. In addition, foreign seafood was more likely to be mislabeled and/or have slave labor involved at some point in the process of catching, harvesting, and growing it.

Along our own coastlines, fishermen are coming back to port hauling boatloads of seafood. Much of this seafood is getting purchased by foreign buyers and shipped overseas to consumers in Asia, while Americans are happy to import and consume cheap foreign seafood. This equation isn’t helping our coastal communities or the national economy.

Oregon albacore is exported for processing then shipped back to U.S.

Some of the seafood being landed by domestic fishermen is frozen after harvest, then shipped to China to be defrosted, filleted, packaged, frozen again, then shipped back to the U.S. to be sold to domestic consumers. This processing in China is cheaper than processing in the U.S. because of lower labor costs, with no import taxes on the products coming back in to the U.S.—until now. And, of course, the real cost of these products doesn’t include the carbon footprint of shipping products halfway around the world and back.

There are mixed opinions about the effects of the Trump administration’s trade wars with China. Recently there was a 25 percent tax slapped on seafood exports and a 10 percent tax on imported seafood products from China. Some seafood industries, including those in Alaska and Maine, have been negatively affected by import taxes. The export taxes have increased the cost to foreign buyers, which has decreased sales significantly due to higher costs with the new taxes.

Oregon anchovies are mostly exported but may be under threat from overfishing.

Some organizations state that the trade wars will lower seafood consumption in the United States because it will ultimately make those cheap sources of seafood more expensive. In my opinion, the price of cheap, imported seafood does need to increase. If the price of imported seafood and domestic seafood was more comparable, then consumers would take a harder look at their purchasing decisions. I believe that we all want to make good choices for the ocean, though sometimes we simply can’t afford expensive seafood.

In the seafood sector, cheap, imported products coming from overseas without import taxes are competing with our domestically caught seafood, which is far superior in quality and nutrition. Domestic seafood products also help financially support our domestic coastal communities and working waterfronts. Due to low wages nationally, some people have little choice but to purchase cheap food, which is why there's so much artificially low-priced imported seafood.

Oregon Dungeness, pink shrimp and albacore are MSC certified as sustainable.

In order to lower their costs and keep profits high, producers cut corners: slave labor, illegal ingredients, antibiotics, hormones, etc., are all consequences of these cost-cutting efforts. All these have negative effects on the environment, our health and that of our communities. It’s similar to U.S. agricultural policy, where our government has subsidies to help farmers who grow genetically modified corn, soy and wheat. These subsidies keep prices low for the consumer, creating an artificial price tag that makes certified organic food seem expensive. [Organic crops are not subsidized like conventional agriculture. - KB] This is the same equation in domestic versus foreign seafood—one is artificially priced lower.

It follows that subsidies make the price tag lower on the face of it, but we are still paying for them on the back end through our taxes. This artificial pricing doesn’t accurately reflect the actual cost of those goods when consumers buy them. When consumers see the price tag on local, organic, or farmers’ market items, they think it’s expensive; however, the real costs of commodity food would be more if the subsidies were not in place and the environmental impacts were included in the cost of the goods.

We have a choice every day to either make this world a better or a worse place in which to live. Some products are produced in sustainable ways for the environment and for our bodies, and some products are produced in ways that harm our bodies and the environment, the people, and the communities in which we live. I encourage you to be mindful of the food choices you make at the grocery store, restaurant and throughout your daily actions.

As a collective community I believe these choices will lead to consumers recognizing the value and nutrition of domestically produced fish. The new demand will absorb the excess production that once went to foreign buyers.

Eat domestic, support your local fishermen, and feed your body good food!

Read more about Oregon's sustainable fisheries and their importance to the state's economy.

Hot House? Chill Out With Cool Shrimp Tacos

I know it's been too hot for too long when I open a cupboard door and a blast of hot air rolls out and hits me in the face. At our house it seems to take about three days of temperatures in the high 90s to achieve this effect, so the last thing I want to do it exacerbate the problem by turning on the stove. Normally that means grilling outside, but Dave's been out of commission this week with cataract surgery, leaving dinners a last-minute "what are we gonna do" problem.

Fortunately there are good friends who have our back, who know that the last thing a person wants to do on a hot evening after a day of shuttling back and forth from doctor appointments is figure out what to have for dinner. My friend Ann offered to bring over her family's favorite hot weather, no-cook dinner on one of those nights, arriving in the late afternoon with a chilled container of shrimp salad she'd adapted from a recipe clipped out of a newspaper years before.

Made with local pink shrimp—which have passed a rigorous certification process and been declared a sustainable fishery by the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC)—and in-season avocados, this is a godsend in hot weather, but it's also a terrific quick solution to a weeknight dinner. Plus I can see it topping a salad of chopped greens or piled into a pita or tossed with hot or cold pasta or topping some crostini for a refreshing appetizer. Seriously, it's that flexible.

So while it's kinda hard to clip a recipe out of the computer screen, it'd be worth your while to bookmark it, save it or pin it someplace for future reference. Which is exactly the reason I'm writing this post—so I can find it the next time I need it!

Shrimp and Avocado Tacos

1 lb. pink shrimp

2 medium slightly firm avocadoes, diced

1 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced

2 green onions, thinly sliced crosswise

1/2 c. chopped cilantro (leaves only)

Juice of 1 lime

Salt to taste

Corn or flour tortillas, at room temperature or warmed in the microwave

Combine all ingredients in large mixing bowl. Serve with tortillas.

While this is great all by itself, I chopped some cabbage to serve alongside, and you could also included sour cream, salsa or hot sauces as desired.

The "L" Word: Leftover Salmon Makes a Salad

Salmon season is in high gear with wild Chinook and Sockeye salmon and their cousin, the Steelhead (really a large trout), running in the Columbia River. Out in the ocean there are Pacific Ocean King and Ivory King, both Chinook salmon, being troll-caught off our coast, with Kenai Red—a Sockeye that is new to me—and Coho being hauled onto the doughty fleet of boats in Alaska's Pacific waters. (I know this because Lyf Gildersleeve of Flying Fish Company shared the salmon update in his latest newsletter.)

Kenai Red salmon.

The other evening Dave had smoked a luscious fillet of Kenai Red that I'd been given as a sample from the Kenai Red Fish Company, which offers a subscription—instead of CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) it's called a CSF (Community Supported Fishery)—for a season's share of the salmon caught in the Cook Inlet near Homer, Alaska.

There were a couple of cups of the fillet left over from dinner, so I put it away thinking I might throw it into a chowder or use it for a batch of salmon cakes in the coming week. Then, when my brother asked us over for dinner a couple of nights later I queried him about what we could contribute. He said, "How about an appetizer?"

Hmmmm…

The ingredients, pre-tossing.

That's when I remembered the salmon I'd stowed in the fridge, and after rummaging in the vegetable bin I came up with half a fennel bulb, some green onions and two local yellow plums. Maybe a fresh, crunchy salad to put on crackers or crostini would fit the bill.

Salmon Salad

2-3 c. leftover salmon, flaked
1/2 med. bulb fennel, sliced thinly
1 Tbsp. fennel fronds, chopped
2 med. plums, halved and sliced thinly
1-2 Tbsp. capers
2 green onions, sliced thinly
3 Tbsp. pine nuts, toasted
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1/2 lemon, added to taste
Salt, to taste

Put salmon, fennel, fennel fronds, plums, capers, green onions and pine nuts in large mixing bowl. Drizzle olive oil over the ingredients and add half of lemon juice. Toss gently to combine but don't break up the salmon too much. Adjust lemon juice and add salt to taste.

This would be a great lunch salad or light entrée served on a bed of fresh-from-the-garden (or farmers' market) lettuce. It would also be terrific combined with pasta or a cooked grain like farro, barley or parched green wheat (frikeh).

Spring Seafood Chowder

Spring in Oregon is a flighty thing. She can be wearing a summer dress and flip-flops one moment, then bundled up in fleece and rain boots the next. She's been seen making daisy chains and picking peonies aplenty, but there's just as good a chance you'll catch her stomping through ankle-deep puddles.

Pea shoots.

A Northwest spring is the time for taking the cozy flannel sheets off the bed and putting the heavy sweaters and coats in the closet for next year. But any Oregonian worth her salt knows that even a several-day stretch of warm, summery weather will almost always turn toward the cool and damp at some point, at least until after the Fourth of July.

Sorrel at the farmers' market.

That's the reason my braising pot is never far from reach this time of year, so I can pretty much whip up a big batch of stew or soup whenever inclement or chilly weather returns. The chowder below is quick and simple, and you can use any fish or shellfish that comes easily to hand. And it's perfectly permissible to substitute chicken, vegetable or corn stock if you didn't boil up your fish bones or crab shells to make fish stock—just make a note to do it next time!

The fun thing about making soups in spring is throwing in whatever's growing in the garden—curls of pea shoots, green tips from favas, chard or sorrel that's starting to come back—to give that chowder some color and a little zip of flavor. Slice a few thick pieces of bread for sopping and you've got a meal in a bowl.

Spring Seafood Chowder

1/4 c. butter or margarine
1 onion, chopped in 1/2" dice
2 stalks celery, cut in 1/4" dice
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 med. russet potatoes, cut in 1/2" dice
4 c. whole milk
4 c. fish stock
3 c. pea shoots, cut in 1" pieces
1 lb. white fish, such as cod
1/2 lb. shrimp, peeled and cut in 1/2" slices
3 sprigs fresh thyme (each about 4" long)

Melt butter over medium heat. Add onion and sauté until it becomes translucent. Add celery and garlic and sauté till tender. Add potatoes and sauté about 5 min. Add milk and fish stock and bring to a simmer. Add fish, shrimp, pea shoots and thyme sprigs. Return to a simmer and cook for at least half an hour, or longer if possible.

Mr. Gildersleeve Goes to Washington

Last week, Pew Charitable Trusts convened a meeting in Washington, DC, for the 40th anniversary of the Magnuson-Stevens Act (MSA), a bipartisan law created to regulate and protect fisheries, enacted on April 13, 1976. Lyf Gildersleeve, owner of Flying Fish, a sustainable seafood retailer in the Providore Fine Foods space on NE Sandy Boulevard, was invited to attend. At the end of his report is a link to contact your congressional representatives, which I urge you to do.

There seems to be consensus, particularly among West Coast officials, that the MSA has been successful. The work to maintain it is constant and always evolving, but we’re fortunate to still benefit from such a great piece of legislation.

The 1996 and 2006 reauthorizations added new provisions which strengthened the MSA and gave it some teeth in addressing overfishing, rebuilding stocks and reducing bycatch. These provisions created on-the-water components beyond the letter of the law—often unpopular smaller quotas, new marine-protected areas and gear restrictions for bycatch reduction and habitat protection. These tough decisions certainly affect fishermen, fishing communities and many other components of the fishing industry, but they’re critical to maintain the overall sustainability of the resource.

Atlantic stripers at The Wharf in Washington, DC.

But the goal—and the good news—is that the MSA’s provisions have allowed stocks to rebuild, causing fishing quotas to start rising again, too. As well, the untargeted fish, often forage fish important in the food chain that feed the prized fishes, remain in the ocean. In short, sustainable fisheries policy enables sustainable business in coastal communities.

The North Pacific Fisheries Management Council (NPFMC), one of eight regional councils to come about because of MSA, has likewise adapted their policy to reflect an ecosystem-based approach, rather than a focus on individual species. This approach accounts for the all the components in the fishery’s web, rather than a single focus that has no regard for the effect it has elsewhere. It’s a relatively new approach, and NPFMC is the only regional council using this kind of management strategy.

It’s a West Coast success story to be sure, but unfortunately not all management areas in the United States yield the same successful results.

East Coast councils have continually struggled to rebuild stocks. They’ve implemented rebuilding programs that include conservation areas and lowered annual catch limits, but stocks have yet to recover. It’s the typical story of overfishing beyond a level of sustainability, and now too few fish remain to adequately reproduce and rebuild the population.

In the South, states like Texas, Louisiana, Alabama and Florida remain locked in a huge allocation battle for red snapper. The fishery has faced tremendous pressure as a staple Southern dish, and thus stocks are weak. The resultant smaller quotas must be split between commercial, recreational, and charter boat fishermen.

Oregon delegation (l to r): Lyf Gildersleeve, Flying Fish; Bob Rees, Assoc. of NW Steelheaders; Paul Engelmeyer, Audobon Society Portland.

Issues also exist in the definitions of state and federal waters. Some states want to extend fishable boundaries into federal waters, which would create a gray area for overlapping fishing areas (i.e. multiple takers for singular fisheries). It would also create a ripple effect for threatened species from red snapper in the South to striped bass in the upper Atlantic, not to mention the potential for exploitation of gas and oil extraction and development. Allowing any additional boundary extensions is simply a bad idea.

In a nutshell, the West Coast has served as an exemplary model for MSA implementation and operation by regional fisheries management councils. We’ve done a lot of work so far, but much more still remains.

One of the biggest takeaways from my time in Washington was the need for a coalition of delegates and representatives to stand together and promote the policy’s successes. We need to come together with a cooperative effort to improve upon the existing MSA; we can’t wait for someone to draft legislation that would weaken it. Now is the time to act—to lead with positive action, rather than waiting to counter and oppose a bad plan.

This should not be a partisan issue, and it wasn’t in 1976 when Senators Warren Magnuson (D-Washington) and Ted Stevens (R-Alaska) drafted the first law. This is our ocean, our resource, our food. Here in 2016, we’re watching a divisive election campaign unfold in front of an unproductive Congress. The MSA’s renewals in 1996 and 2006 were each bipartisan; the new reauthorization must be handled the same way—professionally and humanely, across the aisle. There is no other way.

The MSA’s statute spans ten years, so given its last renewal in 2006, it’s up for another renewal. But, with a short session this year and a Congress that seems uninspired to advance anything with the environment in mind, it’s unlikely it will be renewed this year. That means the law will remain as is  with almost no risk of being adulterated.

That said, in 2014, H.R. 4742—the "Empty Oceans Act"—passed through the House, but stalled in Senate and was fortunately not adopted. Its biggest offenses were introducing terminology like “flexibility” and “if practicable,” which enabled regional councils to exercise wiggle room, opening the door for overfishing in the name of higher profits. It’s not only crucial that the current MSA must be maintained, but with a longer view in focus it can incorporate new topics like: climate change, ocean acidification, estuary protection and upstream forestry protection.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) is the government entity that oversees the funding necessary for the MSA’s performance. And like many important interests, budget allocation issues are creating undue stress, in this case on fisheries.

For starters, there isn’t enough funding for research. The MSA states that regional councils must make the best choices possible with the best science available. But as it stands, the best science available is insufficient. Within the limits of current research, very tangible problems exist such as: 1) harvesting too many fish because populations were overestimated, and 2) its opposite, the underutilization of resources due to ineffective population analysis. Both of these are dangerous categories. Overfishing clearly causes damage, as we’ve seen on the East Coast, as it threatens to push a fishery beyond recovery. With underfishing, we risk one species overtaking a weaker one, creating the potential for further damage to weaker populations.

Within its current confines, NOAA doesn’t recognize the bigger picture. A more comprehensive overview would craft a better ecological picture—the relationship between what happens way upstream and deep in the ocean. Continued and deeper research on global warming and its effects on fisheries, ocean acidification and more is paramount.

NOAA also needs to create national training programs for displaced fishermen to build and enhance domestic aquaculture production, reducing our demand on foreign products. Currently, upwards of 90% of all seafood consumed in the United States is imported, most of it from China and Southeast Asia. We need to, and can, do better here at home.

With NOAA’s funding for research so limited, they should be more open to third-party science and research to help guide their decisions and policy. The current protocol, employing only in-house research, doesn’t work when there isn’t enough money for proper research.

Finally, I believe that NOAA could benefit from a marketing and awareness campaign, elevating the good work that NOAA does, like Fishwatch.gov, and bringing better attention to American fishing and seafood. I feel that much of the problem with the funding allocation stems from states not prioritizing a discussion about fisheries and the ocean.

I encourage you to write your congressional representatives and show your support for the reauthorization of the Magnuson-Stevens Act.

All photos courtesy Lyf Gildersleeve.

Crustacean Celebration: Crab Bouillabaisse

You can blame climate change for the reason Dungeness crab season was delayed this year. Domoic acid, a dangerous neurotoxin that can cause loss of short-term memory, seizures and sometimes even death, became a problem because of unusually warm ocean temperatures off the West Coast from Alaska to California. These warm waters caused a bloom of an algae called Pseudo-nitzschia, which produces the domoic acid, and while the toxin doesn't affect crabs, clams, anchovies and other fish, it does build up in their bodies when they feed.

It takes crabs a fair amount of time to purge the toxin from their systems once the algae bloom dies off. The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife declared Oregon's Dungeness to be safe for consumption as of January 4, 2016, nearly a month later than normal. One of my first responses, naturally, was to go out and buy one for myself. And since I'd been craving a fish stew, I decided to make my first ever bouillabaisse.

Since I'd never made one before, some research was in order. The first resource was my icon of home cook-friendly French cuisine, Ms. Julia Child. One of her recipes calls for making a court bouillon of fish heads, bones and trimmings and adding onions, leeks, tomatoes, herbs and seasonings, which is strained and then used to cook live lobsters—two!—white fish, some shellfish and an eel. Yes, an eel. Well.

I moved on to Jimmy—you may know him as James Beard, but we're very close—who spent a great deal of time with Julia and whose bouillabaisse recipe is a somewhat simplified version of hers.  Though I was impressed with his "soupe de poisson," which calls for taking a couple of pounds of fish (scales, bones and all), cooking it for about half an hour in water, then straining off the "juice"  and adding tomatoes and onions to it. He then throws in some vermicelli, saffron and…this is so Jimmy…Swiss cheese!

A couple of online checks and I had the basic outline of what I was going to do. All it took was a trip to the fish counter at the store, then picking up a couple of things that weren't in my vegetable bin at home, and within an hour of starting the process—thank heavens for having homemade fish stock in my freezer—we were sitting down to steaming bowls of this beautiful fish stew!

Easy Bouillabaisse

1/4 tsp. saffron
1 tsp. salt
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped in 1/2" dice
2 small fennel bulbs or 1 large bulb, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 tomatoes, chopped in 1/2" dice
1 c. dry white wine
3 qts. fish stock
2 lbs. white fish (cod, tilapia, halibut, rockfish, etc.), sliced in 1" pieces
1 lb. clams
1/2 lb. mussels
1/2 lb. shrimp
1 Dungeness crab, cooked and meat picked from shell

Put saffron threads in mortar and pestle with salt and grind until the saffron is mostly powdered. Set aside.

Heat olive oil in large soup pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add onion and sauté till translucent. Add fennel and garlic and sauté till tender. Add ground saffron, tomatoes, white wine and stock. Bring to a boil, then immediately reduce to simmer for 20 minutes. Add fish, shellfish and crab. Bring to a boil, then reduce to simmer for 10 min.

For even more seriously great crab recipes, from crab cakes to chowders to pasta dishes, check out the Crustacean Celebration chronicles.

Crustacean Celebration: Don't Toss Those Shells!

In a previous post I called it a "Damascene moment." As when Paul of Tarsus was tossed off his horse and blinded whilst on a joyride to Damascus, I've had some mighty revelations in my culinary journeys. The one referred to above involved an admittedly pedestrian but delicious meatloaf, and the second was a head-slapper about corn stock made from freshly-shucked corn cobs that I'd been tossing into the compost for decades. D'oh!

The source material.

This week's landing-on-your-tailbone wake-up call happened when we had a dear friend over for Christmas dinner who doesn't eat red meat, immediately requiring the reconfiguration of dinner from a six-rib pork roast from the pig I'd just butchered to…what, exactly? Tuna loins were a possibility but were so, well, uninspiring to build a Christmas dinner around. Then, when other friends couldn't make a crab-centric Christmas Eve dinner, and being the flexible sorts we are, we subbed in pork chops for the evening's dinner and switched Dungeness crab onto the menu for Christmas Day.

It's a move Dick Button would have effused over as equivalent to a triple Salchow followed by a not-in-the-program quad Lutz, an audacious reconfiguration (though perhaps I exaggerate a tad…). In any case, both dinners were executed in delicious fashion, but I was left with a mountain of crab shells. I was bagging them up to throw in the compost bin when lightning struck. "Throw them out?" a voice boomed in my head, "Are you kidding?"

So many possibilities!

You see, I've become addicted to having fish stock on hand for fish-based risottos, paellas and chowders. But the stock made from the whole fish we buy, after roasting the carcasses, just doesn't supply enough to carry us for long. I'd read about making stock by boiling the shells from shrimp, and then my friend Hank Shaw posted about a crab stock he makes by adding vegetables and herbs to the shells. But since I prefer my stocks simple and unseasoned—the better to adapt to various types of uses—and with a pile of Dungeness shells at the ready, I simply threw them into a pot, covered them with water and let them simmer away for about 45 minutes on the stove.

Strained through a fine mesh sieve and cooled on the counter, I now have several quarts at my beck and call. Bouillabaisse, anyone?

For a plethora of seriously great crab recipes, from crab cakes to chowders to pasta dishes, see the previous posts in the series: 2009, 2010, 2011; 2012 and 2013.

Kick Out the Chicken for this Quick Fish Dish

One of the reasons I don't often cook with fish is simply because the fresh stuff was hard to come by in the small Central Oregon town I grew up in. Even after my parents moved the family to Portland there wasn't much available in the supermarkets around our suburban housing development, the streets strangely named after American Indian tribes. (Pawnee Path? Shawnee Trail? Sioux Court? Really?)

My mother was much more comfortable cooking red meat, due to her upbringing in an Eastern Oregon cattle ranching family. Any time we did have fish, it tended to be less than absolutely fresh, requiring lots of what was called "doctoring" to cut through the fishiness. So, needless to say, there's a lot I have to learn about cooking these members of the gill-bearing aquatic family.

Gazing distractedly at the fish and seafood case in the store the other day, I noticed a fish with the strange name of "swai," fillets of which were going for less than $4 a pound, a pretty unbelievable price for fresh fish. Pulling out my phone and launching the handy Seafood Watch app, I found out that swai (above left) is a farmed river catfish from Asia—usually Vietnam—with a mild flavor and meaty texture. Rated a "good" choice if it comes from a foreign source, it rates a "best choice" if raised domestically.

At that price I couldn't walk away, but what to do with it when I got home? Then I remembered a fish dish my friend Dana had made for dinner the last time we were at her house. She'd come across a chicken piccata recipe that sounded great, but she had rockfish fillets on the menu. Ignoring tradition like any good creative cook, she not only decided to try a completely new dish on guests, she subbed in the fish for the chicken. Excellent!

It seemed like my foreign fish purchase might work as well as rockfish, so I followed her lead. Start to finish, it's ready in about half an hour…and I think you'll agree it's a winner.

White Fish Piccata

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter or margarine
1 Tbsp. garlic, chopped fine
1/2 c. chicken stock
1/2 c. lemon juice
2 Tbsp. capers
1 Tbsp. cornstarch
1 Tbsp. parsley, chopped fine, for garnish (optional)
1-1 1/2 lbs. fish fillets

Preheat oven to 350°.

In a medium saucepan, heat oil and butter over medium heat. Add garlic and very briefly sauté until it's just warmed. Add lemon juice and chicken stock and heat until it barely comes to a boil. Reduce heat to low, add capers and stir. Add small amount of water to cornstarch to make a thin paste. Add cornstarch to sauce and allow to thicken slightly.

Place fish fillets in a 9" by 12" baking pan. Pour sauce over the top and put in oven for 20-25 minutes until fish is cooked through.

The "L" Word: Salmon Risotto

Faster than a speeding bullet…no, I'm not talking about caped superheroes leaping tall buildings, I'm talking about how fast word spreads that a store has salmon on sale. In this case it was steelhead, technically a really big trout, but toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

A friend mentioned that a nearby market had steelhead for $3.99 a pound, and faster than that proverbial bullet I was out the door and headed to the market. On the way I phoned Dave (using my ear buds and speaker…I'm not lawless, just in a hurry) to alert him that he'd be firing up the grill that evening, which always elicits a "Boy howdy!" response.

Long story short, I bought the biggest fish in the case, had the butcher fillet it and put the bones, head and tail in a separate bag. (Even at that price I figure since I'm paying for the whole fish—and the bag of bits on this puppy weighed almost two pounds—I'm going to get my money's worth out of it.)

Normally I'd take the carcass and drop it in a pot of water to make stock (right) for chowder, paella, risotto, etc., but my pal Hank Shaw had just that day posted that he roasts the carcass, then pulls the meat off the bones (above left). This gives him about a pound of fish flesh to use for whatever he wants, often a lovely fish salad.

Following his directions, I did exactly that and ended up with a nice pile of cooked salmon in addition to my two fillets. I gave one fillet to a friend who's been supplying me with scads of goodness from her garden, we had the other fillet for dinner and then a couple of nights later I used the roasted bits and some of the leftover (that's the "L" word around here) fillet to make the risotto below. I'd say that's a pretty good score for little bit of gossip!

Leftover Salmon Risotto

2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped fine
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1 Jimmy Nardello pepper or red bell pepper (about 1/2 c.), chopped fine
2 c. arborio rice
1 c. dry white or rosé wine
4 c. stock (I used a light fish stock from a previous carcass)
1 c. frozen corn
1 lb. (or a little more) cooked salmon, flaked
2 egg yolks, stirred to break them up
1/2 c. parmesan or romano cheese, grated, plus more for the table
Salt and pepper, to taste

Melt the butter and margarine in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion, garlic and red pepper and sauté till tender. Add the rice and sauté for 30 seconds until hot, then reduce the heat to low and add the wine. Stir until the wine is absorbed. Add the stock a ladle-full at a time, stirring occasionally to keep it from sticking. When the rice is about half done, add the frozen corn and stir to combine. Near the end of cooking, when the rice is still a bit soupy and al dente, add the salmon so it can warm up. When the rice is done, stir in the egg yolks and the half cup of cheese. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve with extra cheese for sprinkling.

As always, this can be made in a microwave oven, too. And you can add kale or chard or parsley at will…it's a very flexible dish.

Photo of roasted salmon carcass by Holly Heyser.

Why I Buy Oregon Albacore

I can't think of a better illustration of why to buy Oregon albacore than this video of a small cannery I visited on a recent trip to Astoria, Oregon.

Mark Kujala, Skipanon co-owner and the mayor of Warrenton.

The Skipanon Brand cannery, now run by the second generation of the Kujala family of Warrenton, fishes for tuna off the coast of Oregon using the hook-and-line method that eliminates by-catch, the unintended harvesting of other species. Then they bring the fish into their small cannery built by Norman Kujala on the banks of the Skipanon River in 1978.

Anna, originally from Kentucky, worked at Bumble Bee until it moved out of Warrenton.

The loins are filleted and cleaned by a small crew of local women who've been working for the family for decades. The fresh loins are then sliced, hand-packed into cans with two salt pellets and sent through the ancient canning machine. The wire cage holding the cans is lifted into a large pressure cooker that cooks the fish, which means the fish cooks in its own juice without needing oil or water to keep it moist. Then the rich broth can be added to pump up the flavor of whatever dish the fish is used in.

Is it any wonder I love this product? I'm so glad to have found out about it!

Details: Skipanon Brand albacore can be found at the Saturday Beaverton Farmers' Market, ordered online at their website or found at many stores around the state. Most markets have other brands of Oregon albacore available. They're well worth looking for or asking about.

R-Evoe-lutionary

Whether we get it from TV or restaurant chefs or glossy magazines, one of the Big Lies of our current food-obsessed age is that you can't prepare great food or, heaven help us, entertain if you have anything less than a gourmet kitchen costing tens (or hundreds) of thousands of dollars. That kitchen, of course, must be filled with gleaming stainless steel appliances, preferably restaurant-grade. (Think Viking 6-burner stove and Sub-Zero refrigerator.)

The pickle bar.

But all you have to do to turn off the smoke machine and clear the air is to drop into Evoe some early afternoon and take a seat at Kevin Gibson's prep table-cum-chef's bar. With little more than a sharp knife, a mandoline and the same exact non-stick plug-in griddle my mom made pancakes on for most of my childhood, he turns out what I consider some of the best food in the city. I mean, the guy had to beg to get a stove, for gosh sakes, and got a household-grade electric one for his trouble! (Forget gas or a fancy, much less any, hood.)

More padrons, please!

The other day when my son and I dropped in for lunch—I was using up the last of my Christmas coupon for three lunches, his treat—we waited for a seat and pounced when two opened up. (Could it have been my drooling on their shoulders that caused them to leave in such a hurry?) We ordered our usual deviled eggs, Kevin's breathtakingly mustard-infused version dipped in bread crumbs and fried on his griddle till warm and vaporous.

And since I hadn't yet had my fill of padron peppers this year, an order of those was de rigeur, and a huge pile of the blistered gems soon appeared before us. The best thing to do at Evoe is to order your next plate when one arrives, so on Kevin's advice we ordered the whole sea bream stuffed with minced fennel fronds and with an array of sautéed whole cherry tomatoes alongside.

Octopus salad.

As we munched our peppers, Kevin disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with a fish, which he slashed crosswise and showered with salt crystals while it came up to room temperature. Turning on a burner (electric, remember?) he put a pan on the stove to get it searingly hot and moved to the chopping block, mincing up the fennel stuffing. When it was safely stowed inside the fish, he put the fish into the pan for it to brown for a few minutes.

At some point between flipping the fish to sear the other side and putting it into the oven to finish cooking, he added a bunch of cherry tomatoes to the pan. And that's the other thing I love about this place: it's like getting a master-level cooking class for the price of lunch, my idea of the perfect noon-time activity.

The sea bream emerged moist on the inside with salty, crispy skin (top photo), and we took Kevin's advice and pried out the cheek and head meat, leaving little but bones and a couple of fins on the plate. To finish off in style we went for the octopus salad, a concoction of more cherry tomatoes and chilled octo lightly dressed with a simple vinaigrette.

So while Kevin's got more raw talent in his little fingernail than I'll ever achieve, it's instructive to watch someone make food magic with the most basic of kitchen appliances. Instructive and delicious.

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

Cake Walk

You know all those posts about fritters that GSNW contributor Jim Dixon has been writing the last few months, the ones made from good things like squash and corn, dandelion greens and sardines? And remember those crazy-like-a-fox crab cakes from Mark Bittman that I posted back in December as part of the Crustacean Celebration? Another name for them would be…fish fritters! I actually did a Homer Simpson "D'oh!" at the thought.

So when I found some leftover grilled sockeye salmon sitting in the fridge just waiting to be put to it's best and highest use, my first thought was, yes, fritters! Checking out a few recipes, it looked like I had enough for a batch without resorting to excessive fillers that would compromise its lovely smoky flavor.

Next to a shrimp Louis, fritters are the perfect summer meal. They cook quickly without heating up the kitchen and they're rock star good. All you have to do is mash up leftovers with some sautéed veggies, breadcrumbs and eggs, fry them quickly in hot oil and serve with a cool, refreshing salad. So simple and delightful! And they'd make a fabulous appetizer for your next barbecue…just be sure to make them small and make a lot. You might even want to set a couple aside as you cook them so you can have some for yourself, cause they'll go fast.

Salmon Cakes

Adapted from various recipes

3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 ribs celergy, finely chopped
1/2 c. red Italian bell pepper or other sweet pepper like Jimmy Nardello
1 lb. leftover cooked salmon or 3 6-oz. cans salmon, well drained
1 c. bread crumbs
2 large eggs
2 tsp. Old Bay seasoning
1-2 tsp. hot sauce like Sriracha or Tabasco
1/2 tsp. Worchestershire sauce
1/2 c. mayonnaise (not salad dressing)
2 tsp. Dijon
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat 1 Tbsp. olive oil in frying pan. When it shimmers, add onion and garlic and sauté till translucent. Add celery and chopped pepper and sauté till tender. Cool while you pick the bones out of the salmon.
Put salmon in mixing bowl with bread crumbs, eggs, Old Bay, Worchestershire sauce, mayonnaise and mustard. Add cooled vegetables and stir to combine. Form into 2-3" wide, 1/2" thick cakes and place on cookie sheet. Put in refrigerator and chill 30 minutes. Heat 1 Tbsp. oil in skillet until shimmering, then fry cakes a few at a time until browned, adding fresh oil as needed. Keep in warm oven until they're all finished cooking and serve.

Umami? Oh, Baby!

Umami, the "fifth flavor" in addition to salt, sweet, sour and bitter, is described as "meaty" or "savory" and has been the buzz of the food magazines for a few years now. It is due to the presence of naturally-occurring glutamates, which those of a certain age may remember from a manufactured product called "Accent" (which contained monosodium glutamate or MSG) on their mother's spice shelf. Contributor Jim Dixon is all about umami, and his recipe for this black bean sauce has it in spades. Look for Jim on opening day of this weekend's Portland Farmers' Market with a great selection of Italian olive oils (I highly recommend his Everyday Oil) and imported sea salts, plus a selection of hard-to-get dried beans and grains.

We finally got the kitchen put back together after what seemed like months of painting and related home improvement activities. Judith said she was craving black bean sauce, a dish I learned from David Estes and Tom Calhoun when they ran the late, lamented Eddie Lee’s (in the space now occupied by Mother’s). At Eddie Lee’s the sauce included shrimp and fresh tomatoes, and it was served over pasta. I’ve always left out the shrimp and tomato, but for years served it with spaghetti. This weekend I added squid and catfish and paired the sauce with Kokuho Rose brown rice.

Fish with Black Bean Sauce

The “black beans” are douchi, aka Chinese fermented black beans, made by salting and fermenting soy beans. They look and smell funky, but they have a unique flavor. You’ll have to visit an Asian market to find them; I get Yang Jiang brand in the yellow cardboard container (left).

Chop equal amounts of fresh ginger and garlic, enough so you end up with at least a half cup combined (a chunk of ginger as big as your thumb; 6-8 cloves of garlic). Cook them together for a few minutes in a heavy pot with about a half cup of olive oil.

Add about a cup of the fermented black beans that you’ve run through the food processor briefly, just enough to break them up a bit. Cook for another few minutes, then add about a half cup of flour to make a roux [This makes a very, very thick roux…I'd start with 2-3 Tbsp. with the amount of liquid below and add from there. - KAB]. Cook this for another 5 minutes or so.

Add a splash of white wine and about a cup of water. I usually toss in a little oyster sauce and fish sauce if I have them, but they’re not essential. Cook the sauce for several minutes until it thickens, then add a pound of fresh squid, tubes cut into roughly inch long pieces. Reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook for about 30 minutes.

Cut a couple of catfish fillets into pieces about 2 inches long and add to sauce. Cover and cook about 10 minutes. Add the leaves from a bunch of cilantro and a few sliced green onions, cook another minute, then remove from heat and serve over rice.

You Take a Stick of Bamboo

You take a stick of bamboo,
You take a stick of bamboo,You take a stick of bamboo,You throw it in the water...

Peter, Paul and Mary may or may not have meant this song as a political statement, but it nicely encapsulates the philosophy behind the opening of Bamboo Sushi on SE 28th. Formerly a sushi restaurant called Masu East, it was the eastside outpost of downtown's Masu owned by partners Jeff Berback and Kris Lofgren.

Lofgren became increasingly concerned about the environmental and sustainable aspects of owning a sushi restaurant, where it's hard to find out how or where the fish is caught, much less the ripples its distribution may have on other species and the environment. He decided to buy out Berback and reopen as the first seafood restaurant in the United States to be certified as sustainable by the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC). Along with MSC, he is also partnering with other blue-chip organizations including the Monterey Bay Aquarium, Blue Ocean Institute and the Green Restaurant Association. Using the guidelines established by Blue Ocean Institute and Monterey Bay Aquarium, Bamboo says it will only serve seafood listed as "best choices" or "good alternatives."

So fine, you say, but how is the food? Well, at an event to showcase the menu for the media, it was both good and a little uneven. Overall, the sushi was excellent with some unusual (and tasty) combinations that you won't find at other sushi spots in town. The usuzukuri, made with thinly sliced whitefish, jalapenos, ponzu, green onions, tobiko and sesame seeds (photo, top), was a fresh take on a traditional dish, with salty and sweet flavors combining with the popping of the flying fish roe for a fun sensory experience. The hoki poke box (above left), sushi rice pressed with red crab salad and layered with tuna, avocado, green onion, togarashi and poke sauce, also had the traditional-with-a-twist thing going on, and the grilled kobe flank with sweet potato, sauteed garlic greens with bacon, pickled mushrooms and momiji sauce was amazing.

The unevenness came when the kitchen strayed from the Japanese theme, throwing in au courant items like panko-crusted goat cheese (above right), smoked cipollini onions and candied walnuts that begged a "Huh?" response.

But the most surprising thing was the desserts, which were actually quite good and worth ordering on their own. The adzuki filo (left, above), basically a red bean paste-filled empanada, was a crunchy, oozing delight and had a sweet potato-lime sorbet with a fence of raspberry poached pears, ideal complements to the empanada's sweetness. The chocolate "egg rolls" were chocolate pudding-filled pastry rolls that had been rolled in ginger sugar and served with candied ginger ice cream and seasonal fruit. Sensational on all counts.

Though Lofgren says they're working hard to keep their prices comparable to other spots in town, it is pricey so choosing wisely (and conservatively) might be the best policy, at least at first.

Details: Bamboo Sushi, 310 SE 28th Ave. Phone 503-232-5255.

Fishing for a Great Recipe

I love making goals. To get back to exercise class. To take the dogs on at least one long walk a day. To schedule a regular date night with Dave and not let it fall by the wayside. To eat more fish.

In keeping with at least one of those, I was trolling through the recipes on my brother's blog. He's begun incorporating more fish into his rotating repertoire lately, and I thought I'd take advantage of his testing rather than start with an unknown quantity that might or might not work out.

Since I can't ever seem to get enough Asian flavor in my diet, the halibut with nori jam that he found on the New York Times website seemed to fit the bill. And even though the extra step of making the "jam" was outside my usual just-throw-it-together dinner style, it went together quickly and easily and added that extra sparkle that made this recipe a keeper.

Halibut With Nori Jam
Adapted from David Myers

For the nori jam:
2 Tbsp. light soy sauce
2 Tbsp. mirin
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 Tbsp. water
1 1/2 sheets nori (Japanese seaweed sheets), torn into small pieces

For the halibut:
4 6-8 oz. skinless halibut fillets
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 Tbsp. olive oil
4 tsp. nori jam
1 to 2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
2 Tbsp. sliced chives.

For nori jam: In small saucepan, combine soy sauce, mirin, vinegar and 1 tablespoon of water. Bring to boil and add nori, stirring until nori is soft, about 30 seconds. Transfer to blender and purée until smooth. Return to pan and cook over medium heat until thickened and jamlike, 2 to 3 minutes.

For halibut: Preheat oven to 350°. Season halibut with salt and pepper to taste. Place large ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat and add oil. When oil is very hot but not smoking, add fillets skinned side down and let them sit until browned on underside, about 3 minutes.

Transfer pan to oven and bake until cooked through, about 3 minutes. Transfer fillets to warm platter and spread each fillet with about 1 teaspoon of nori jam. Sprinkle with lemon juice, and garnish with chives. Serve immediately.

Yield: 4 servings.