Showing posts with label Mullet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mullet. Show all posts

Monday, March 9, 2015

When in North Carolina, eat as the locals eat

Bob Garner, author of "Foods That Make You Say Mmm-Mmm," will speak at 7pm Wednesday, March 18, during a meeting of Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina (CHOPNC) at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill. The event is free and open to the public.

Even with the different options available from east to west and back again, Bob Garner has learned that man cannot live by North Carolina barbecue alone.
Since he wrote his first book in 1996, North Carolina Barbecue: Flavored by Time, Garner has become one of the state's best known bbq experts. He's written extensively on the passions of those who choose vinegar or tomato sauce - or vice versa - and featured hard working, traditional pit masters in countless WUNC television programs.

In his new book, Foods That Make You Say Mmm-Mmm (Blair Publishing), Garner takes readers along for a journey that stretches from the coast to the mountains - with plenty of pit stops in-between to fill up on local specialties.
"I decided to focus on foods that really are special to North Carolina, as opposed to things that are loved throughout the South," Garner says. "We all eat a lot of mac and cheese and chicken and dumplings, and wash it down with sweet tea. But there is a kind of cabbage collard grown here that is limited to the coastal plain. It's so good that has its own festival in the little town of Ayden, which calls itself the Collard Capital of the World. Now that is truly special."

The pale yellow leaves of the cabbage collard and sweeter and more tender than its stiff, dark-leaved cousin. It's also more precious giving its limited growing season. "I do get a little sad when you can't get them anymore," Garner says, "but then all the spring and summer produce arrives. In North Carolina, there is always something to look forward to."
Garner strived to introduce readers to some traditional foods that are less well-known outside of their native habitat. Ocracoke Fig Cake, which is generally available up and down the Outer Banks when figs are plentiful, is one such example.

"It's perfect for the winter holidays," Garner says of the cake, which uses a jar of fig jam for its rich flavor and distinctive texture.  
"I don't think most people know about that, but they should," he says with a trace of the familiar "mmm-mmm" he uses to accentuate foods he adores.
And while many North Carolinians are familiar with Brunswick stew, Garner would like to see them boldly try some Neuse River fish stew.
"It's a very localized fish made in no more than four counties along the Neuse," he says. "Unless you live there or know people - or are a food historian or a really clued-in foodie - you've probably never tried it."
Garner includes a recipe for Authentic Eastern North Carolina Fish Stew in the book. He warns that it's an ugly bowlful of often boney rockfish, layered with potatoes and onions, and topped with eyeball-like poached eggs slipped in at the last minute. The stew is not to be stirred while cooking - typically outdoors, or in a sheltered garage if it's too cold and windy - to ensure that fish stays in large chunks.
"It's been going on for years and years, but it's a little known dish outside of the immediate area," Garner says, noting that some renegades doctor their stew with crushed saltines . "There are only a couple of places where you can get it commercially, like Ken's Grille on Hwy. 70 in LaGrange.  But only on Fridays."

Another fish Garner originally thought to leave out but couldn't resist in charcoal mullet. Once dismissed as bait fish, sustainable oily mullet - especially jumping mullet - has become popular inland thanks to providers who rush fresh catch from the coast to grateful local consumers.
"Charcoal mullet is food for the common people, a thing locals always ate when others wouldn't," he says. "There's a lesson here. If you eat what the locals eat, you're going to eat well."

 

 

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Twice Murdered Mullet

We arrived on Edisto Island, South Carolina, around 3pm Sunday and checked into our condo, which is on the quiet sound side. Actually, the entire island is very quiet. We are sharing it will just a scattering of like-minded folks who know how lovely the beach can be in fall.

We were given a map of the surroundings by a cheerful concierge, who notes that the island fish market is directly across from check-in. Tim, not a beach lover (too much sand), brightens immediately.

We decide to take a quick drive through town before checking out the fresh catch. Post-season business owners have apparently rediscovered faith and family as just about everything is closed. Tim is not impressed. "There's not even a coffee shop," he says.

We pull into the fish market's parking lot, relieved to see another car already there. The sign on the door reads "Open 7 days a week, 9-6."

"I did the same thing," I hear a woman say as my hand flies off the handle of the locked screen door. "See you at the Pig."

There is a tiny Piggly Wiggly on Edisto, the sole haven for disappointed new arrivals. Prices are reasonable but options are few. I get in line at the deli while Tim hunts for bread and a bag of lemons.

A fellow steps past the perimeter of the deli area and looks around as if trying to determine who is in charge. The woman helping me throws him a look.

"Do you sell mullet?" he asks hopefully. "No, shug," she answers, pointing toward his feet as he steps back. "No fresh fish."

"I thought maybe you could sell them," he says affably. "I've got about 100 gill-net caught mullet in my truck. Nice big ones. You want any, just to take home?"

"Jumping mullet?" I ask, incredulous at the offer. "Can I have two of them?"

And so began our exceptional $7 dinner and breakfast, which Tim dubbed Twice Murdered Mullet.

After confirming that we have access to a grill, Tim returns to the market to get charcoal. I go online to see if I can find a how-to video on how to reduce a whole fish to cookable parts. The first one, posted by someone named "boobster1969," shows him trimming, filleting and skinning five fish in under three minutes. The next one is more informative, which actually proves to be more intimidating.

Our accommodations include a reasonably well-stocked kitchen and a set of serrated knives, which I normally use only for slicing tomatoes or bread. I watch the video again, keying in on how to release the hard scales and reveal the shiny, blue-tinged skin. I feel growing confidence as I watch him effortlessly slip the blade through the belly, gliding over the bones, to release a perfect fillet. How hard can this be?

I pour myself a glass of wine. I find the cutting board and a pair of kitchen shears to snip away the fins. I reach into the bag to pull out a fish; we actually have three. Each one slips out of my grasp, several times, before I manage to get it on the board. Scales ricochet like thrown poker chips. The fins do not surrender as easily as I expect from the video. I will spare you the gruesome details of dispatching the heads, but suffice it to say that the I could not stop thinking about the movie "Fargo."

Releasing the flesh proves rather challenging. I would like to blame the unfamiliar knife, but what I do to those lovely fish borders on sin. Instead of appetizing fillets, we mostly had slivers and chunks.

At home, we marinate mullet in a mixture of soy sauce, garlic, ginger, pepper flakes, salt and pepper, and a glug of molasses. It creates a deep, dark sweet-and-savory flavor perfect for a smoky grill. Since we did not want to invest in all that, however, we opted for bottled teriyaki sauce.

Tim had the coals just right, but it soon got too dark to see. The fish was perfectly cooked but reduced to shards.

"Think of it as fish bits," he says, refilling our wine glasses for dinner. "You murdered it once, then I did it again."

Accompanied by blanched fresh asparagus finished in butter and gingered sesame seeds, it was an excellent meal. The leftovers were diced and cooked with eggs for breakfast. Counting all purchased ingredients (including charcoal), we spent about $7 on our first two vacation meals.

We'll be going back to the Pig - if not for more free fish, at least for new T-shirts. Hard to imagine a better souvenir.