Still life with trout

After the last post–in which our intrepid heroine goes to the market and buys trout–I had a big ole fish on my hands, and limited time to prepare it. Grocery shopping can be perilous, rendering your kitchen a veritable field of land-mines: when will this fish expire? is that the cabbage that stinks? don’t touch those eggs! 

I did not, perhaps, prepare the trout as quickly as I should have (Tuesday night) and, to be honest, when you buy fish in Paris it’s never going to be straight from the sea. So I was dealing with some edible–but not inspiring–sealife. I should have done something to snazz it up: saute it in butter, bread it, stick a candle on top of it and make a wish. Instead, I made the regrettable decision to poach it and winded up with a flaccid, bland hunk of omega 3s. Alas! Still, served with fresh lemon and brussel sprouts (sauteed in olive oil, with coriander, lemon zest and onions), it made for a light, tasty meal. All the same, seafood and Paris are not the happiest of couples. Will a trip to Marseilles be in order? (I could stop and pick up some decent olives on my way there!).

Having accidentally consumed bones–or aretes–too many times in my life, I was extra thorough in preparing the trout. Run your finger along the bone area (spine? i know it’s not really a spine but you know…) and use a pair of tweezers to draw out all the bones, which should be sticking up.  It doesn’t take as long as it sounds and your little delicate throat will thank you later in the evening. Just don’t use your eyebrow tweezers, people. No one wants fishy eyebrows (or hairy fish).

Consume with a glass of Chablis (confession: I sometimes eat seafood just to have an excuse to drink Chablis. This is especially true of oysters).