By: Chef Daniel Orr

Daniel Orr is Executive Chef at Kitchen Stadium, Santorini Restaurant, Famiglia and the Tapas Lounge and Rum Bar at CuisinArt Resort and Spa and is working on A Chef’s Diet Cookbook and Cooking in Paradise.

Fish food for thought

Chef Daniel Orr

When I was a child growing up in the Midwest, the extent of our fresh seafood was what we caught in the nearby lake or pond. Things like catfish, crappie, bluegills, red ears and the occasional largemouthed bass were all we knew about fresh fish. Those who had extremely good luck might come home with a meal of snapping turtles, pike, or frogs’ legs. What did a barefoot boy from Columbus, Indiana, know about the sea? For us, salt-water seafood began and ended with Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks and frozen cod fillets. The few times a year that we got to taste real seafood were true celebrations.

I remember Cole’s Market next to the strawberry patch on the state road. It was an old-timey supermarket with a creaky wooden floor, a cat in the window, and piles of just about anything reaching up to the rafters. Mr. Cole would usually be behind the meat counter cutting steaks and pounding cutlets, but at Christmas time he brought in fresh oysters. Everyone would make an annual pilgrimage for those succulent bivalves. We didn’t eat much saltwater fish, as you can tell, but it was known as “brain food” that made little children smart if they finished the imported visitor at the table.

The only lobster in my hometown was brought in yearly for a Lutheran church fundraiser each summer. For that event, we’d have the grandparents over and spend hours around the table sucking every last little leg of its saline sweetness. The adults talked for hours while we kids usually fell asleep at the table, not wanting to admit defeat. Homemade ice cream usually followed!
Now the supermarket has a lobster tank and sushi grade tuna. I think it’s fantastic, but look back sentimentally at that “pre-seafood time” thinking of family, friends, and special moments that are now just memories.
Many years later in New York City, where you can get just about anything at the snap of your fingers, I learned a lot more about seafood. Much of my education came from early morning visits to the great old open-air fish market on Fulton Street. It was a real eye opener for a guy from the Midwest. Later, living and working in France also taught me a trick or two. Fisherman, fishmongers, and chefs in both places showed me new techniques for buying, preparing and serving an array of sea creatures.
By the time I was back in New York at the helm of the wonderful La Grenouille, I was the biggest purchaser of Dover sole in New York. When you buy that amount of fish, a “fish guy” will bend over backward to keep your account. Nothing but the freshest ever arrived at our door.
Later, at Terence Conran’s Guastavino’s under the 59th Street bridge, I was buying tons (literally) of fish for our “little” 700-seat bistro! I was rarely unhappy with the freshness of the products. After fifteen years, I’d blindly thought that I’d never given my dear guests any experience less than perfect. Little did I know the true vibrancy exists when you live on the sea.
The first thing Christopher and I realized when we got to Anguilla was that we were going to get to “play” with the freshest fish we’d ever seen. The big-eyed snappers were so pristine that you could see yourself reflected in their peepers. Anguillians introduced us to pot fish, the reef fish brought up in the lobster pots during harvest. Our new culinary territory also included hinds, doctor fish, red mon, butterfish, porgies, buffalo head, old wife and angelfish. The freshness was what really made them so special. The fishermen would drive their pickups brimming with their daily catch straight to the restaurant. No blast chilling, no shipping, no overnight transport. These critters were still kicking, especially the spiny lobsters and the saltwater crayfish.
Once we arrived we learned the folklore too. Avoid certain reefs or yourdinner might be poisoned. Don’t eat certain fish when the cedar tree is dropping flowers. Never eat barracudas unless you’re starving, and then throw the head on an anthill and see if they eat it before you try. Stay away from the cavalli and black jack and think twice about the dogtooth snapper. Reefs near shipwrecks should not be fished because of the large amount of copper found in old boats. Pick the big-eyed snapper over its more shallow-water cousin for the same reason.
Not all fish moments are harrowing. Some are glorious: Dropping fresh armored trunkfish onto glowing coals, then cracking them open twenty minutes later and eating them seasoned with a splash of ocean water and a squeeze of local lime. Grilling sea lice (which we re-christened slipper lobster for obvious reasons) and dipping them in Caribbean chili and herb butter. Snorkeling with a flashlight after sunset to bag crayfish and spear sleeping butterfish. Laughing about how big Christopher’s eyes got when a huge puffer fish accosted him.
We had what should be an illegal amount of fun collecting and experimenting with the local fish to create the recipes we serve at the Resort. The great news is that they are very adaptable to the non-Anguillian table. The recipe that follows offers you other varieties of fish and shellfish you can use with equal success. Remember, recipes are guidelines; don’t allow them to be a ball and chain. Use them for inspiration to help you get a wonderful meal on the table.
I’d love to hear from you. I am collecting recipes and stories for future articles and books and would love to include your favorite family recipes and food memories from the kitchen, the garden or the sea. You can reach me at dorr@cuisinart.comor stop me on the road if you see the CuisinArt Chef Mobile.

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