Citrus and herb panko crusted red tilapia with bastardised nasi goreng

Weekends are a special time for culinary fanatics. Without the hustle and bustle of the working week to distract us, we are able to dig deep into the larder to eat something special or try something new. It’s when we whip out the liquid smoke, fire up the blow torch, and share our passion for food with those closest to us. In the Scavenger Gourmet kitchen, there’s inevitably a bit of tug-of-war that goes on: I crave fry-ups, steaks, and game stews, while Al usually wants something along the lines of poached seaweed with an air jus. Our efforts to compromise and maintain a relative amount of domestic harmony – as well as our passable environmental awareness – means that I find myself cooking a lot more fish these days.

Now, I’ve never been one of those people who always seems to fall back on the tested but tired routine of salmon with new potatoes and rocket salad: mackerel, sardines, monkfish, cod, swordfish, mussels, prawns, and scallops are all well within my comfort zone, and I like to think that I’ve got an especially deft hand when it comes to tuna. Even beleaguered salmon has its place as a quick mid-week supper – it is fantastic perched on top of some nice and light, primavera-style pasta and also works very well with couscous. But the fact that my at-home diet now almost resembles pescetarianism means that my weekend exploits are typically a matter of finding new ways to pervert the simple pleasure of fresh fish.

This weekend I wanted to distance myself from the usual suspects. A fun but gastronomically atrocious meal at Huong Viet in Dalston as part of the annual JT staff lash-up the weekend before left my mind flirting with exotic ideas. While I didn’t know exactly where this would lead me, a quick Google turned up a good guide for nasi goring, or Indonesian fried rice. Now, all I had to do was totally bastardize it.

As much as this post is largely driven by the fact that I was quite pleased with the relative success of my culinary exploits, it’s completely dependent on the Fin and Flounder fishmonger in Broadway Market, one of the jewels in Hackney’s gastronomic crown. It is the best urban fishmonger I have ever set in foot in by an Irish mile: the crustaceans are still moving, the fish have that awesome ‘I’ve just been whacked’ look in their eyes, and staff are effortlessly helpful as well as knowledgeable.

My aquatic local, The Fishery on Stoke Newington High Street, is highly commendable and great to have down the road. But comparing it to Fin and Flounder is like equating Huong Viet with Viet Grill. The Fishery isn’t nearly as bad as Huong Viet, of course, but the gap between the two is comparable. If you haven’t been, you owe it to yourself and whoever you’re frying Blinky up for to make the trip to London Fields. They’re open most of the week so you don’t even have to run the risk of being blinded by a hipster’s beard at the weekend. If these words of praise don’t convince you, then the following picture certainly should…

On the day, I took a bit of a punt and walked away with two filleted red tilapias, as well as a handful of plump Cornish mussels and a few scallops. Tilapia is only starting to make waves over here but should become more popular as it’s both flavourful and highly sustainable. It’s already quite popular in the States, where in many regions cheap freshwater fish is given a light crust and then baked. Up in New England, people ate a lot of trout and pike. Tilapia was one of the Southern equivalents. Given that my experience of these types of fishes revolves around light breading, it seemed irresponsible to stray too radically from the zone of familiarity. Up in Beantown, the coating was normally lemon and butter flavoured. The butter is essential to bind the crumbs, but lemon seemed a bit out of place so, as I was cooking vaguely south-east Asian fare, I opted for the somewhat bolder flavour of lime. I also used panko rather than traditional breadcrumbs – having recently discovered they are the secret to making perfect buffalo chicken tenders without a deep-fat fryer, I am more than a bit in love with them at the moment.

I stuck fairly closely to the basic fried rice recipe. I left out the egg, as I wasn’t totally convinced of its compatibility with fish, and also steamed the lovely mussels to throw in at the end. Crucially, I made my own home-made red curry paste, which – as with everything from pesto to barbeque sauces and marinades – is the difference between Come Dine With Me and Masterchef. Mine was quite coarse textured as I love using my pestle and mortar, but a food processor works perfectly fine and is much easier. If you do use the bird’s eye chilies rather than the more common supermarket variety, be advised that it is quite spicy. Personally, I found it packed the perfect punch, ‘authentic’ heat as I would call it. Al was less convinced, finding it a bit overpowering. If you want to stick to the recipe but have the end product taste a bit milder, throw a splash of coconut milk into the rice mix at the end, which would work wonderfully with the mussels. No amount of Instagramic meddling could make it look any prettier - the beauty is in the flavour.

 

 

 

 

So make your curry paste first and shove it in the fridge for a bit - this lets the flavours have a chance to mingle. Then pre-cook your rice and leave it to cool thoroughly, or use day old rice if you have it. While it’s cooling, you can prepare your tilapia fillets. All you need to do is have two shallow dishes or, failing that, two decent sized bowls. Melt a good knob of butter, then add the juice of a lime or two, depending on how zingy you want it. In the other bowl, lay out your panko breadcrumbs. Err on the side of caution here, as you can always add more and I often find I waste quite a bit of precious panko.

I added some herbs to the panko mix, as I had piles lying around from my Super Bowl binge, and seasoned it with Rajah fish seasoning mix and smoked salt (like panko, another new obsession). If your local corner shop isn’t as God-like as they are in E5, it’s basically just garlic and onion powders plus paprika. I used parsley, chervil, and a bit of thyme as the herbs, though pretty much anything green would work. Dip the fillets into the butter and lime first, then roll in the panko mix. Butter doesn’t bind as heavily as egg, which is ideal for this dish as you want to add a bit of extra texture and zip without compromising the delicate flavour of the fish. The end result should be lightly crumbed rather than totally breaded. 

Transfer the fillets to a lightly oiled or sprayed baking tray, pre-heat the oven to a low setting, around 170 degrees – too high and the fish will dry out – and go about cleaning the mussels. I’ve found the secret to cleaning mussels is to double soak them: at least 20 minutes in one batch of cold water, drain, then repeat. Very rarely will you have to scrub them if you do this. Quickly steam them until they have opened and don’t worry if they seem a bit bland at this point, as they will soak up all the flavour from the rice.

Shove the fish in the oven and then fry off a tablespoon or two of your labour of love, the homemade curry paste, depending on how hot and densely flavoured you want it. Adding a pinch of sugar at this stage helps harmonize all the bold flavours, I find. Throw in your pre-cooked rice once all the aromas start to release and stir to coat before adding spring onions and some peas – frozen work just fine. Add your cooked mussels and a few good-sized glugs of soy sauce. Stir again to mix everything together. By now, your fish should be almost done, so quickly chop up whatever garnishes you want: I had extra spring onions, fresh red chili, coriander, a lime wedge, and some radishes. Unfortunately, I haven't yet saved up for that food styling course, so the final product looks very rustic.  

To plate, put some of your bastardised nasi goring on the plate first, using a chef ring if you want it to look really showy, and top it with a fillet or two of the tilapia. Add your garnishes and an extra drizzle of soy sauce and you’re in business. I also did some salt and pepper aubergine on the side, but this is entirely option and perhaps even ill-advised – if anything, the aubergine was a bit too meaty and didn’t really play off the fish like I had hoped. The final snap hardly does justice to the each individual element in this dish, but hopefully it still resembles something vaguely appetizing. I hope it’s enough to encourage you to try it out because it was a fantastic plate of food: cheap without looking it, packed with bold flavours, and it didn’t maim the ocean too badly to boot.