As you may have noticed from the new header, I moved this past summer from the Bay Area to the suburbs of Philadelphia, where I grew up. Quite the transition from the trendy, hipster streets of Oakland and San Francisco to the pastoral, colonial themed ways of Willistown Township, Pennsylvania. I'm pretty excited for the perks of suburban living: bigger home, backyard, tool shed, tree house, tire swing. But I'd be lying if I said I don't miss the bustling food scenes of urban areas. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of quality restaurants and markets in the suburbs, and I'm just a 30 minute drive from a booming restaurant scene in Philadelphia . The accessibility to gardening, fishing, foraging, and hunting in the suburbs more than makes up for any cuisine shortcomings. Occasionally though, I've caught myself whining "why aren't there any Peruvian roast chicken spots" or "what do you mean the nearest Korean BBQ is 45 mins away?!" I've even uttered a snide "man, this place is stuck in 2012 with all these gastropubs." Seriously, every other new restaurant profiled in this January 2022 issue of a local magazine was a beer tasting room or tap house. Criticizing the community is a great way to reintroduce myself, right? Figured I'd be transparent on what an asshole I can be when it comes to my culinary expectations.
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| Largemouth bass from my neighborhood pond in Chester County, PA |
What most excites me is both the prospect and challenge of new oyster nerd experiences. When I first moved, I was nervous, knowing I'd become a snobby brat from the abundance of food culture in the Bay Area. Sure, the Philly suburbs were where my foundation of fish and seafood obsession started. My childhood was filled with trips to the Jersey Shore, bass fishing in neighborhood ponds or Marsh Creek, and learning how to shuck oysters at Hill's. But no way the quaintness of Malvern, Pennsylvania could compete with the edible eminence of San Francisco to which I'd become so accustomed. However, the more I've regained my footing in the Greater Philadelphia area, the more ideas for seafood experiments, exploration, and collaboration have spawned (yep, still grinding out the oyster puns). I can't wait to splurge on Philadelphia's high-end seafood scene, delve into Chester County trout fishing, and visit some Delaware and South Jersey aquaculture farms. There are new, progressive organizations like Fishadelphia to check out. Hell, even Baltimore, Boston, and New York with all their oceanic delights are just a few hours' drive. And you know I'm going to do a deep dive into one of Philadelphia's most historic and iconic dishes, Snapper Soup.
That being said, it gets cold here. Like, really cold. Like fuck-off-I'm-not-going-outside cold. Taking the climatic Prozac of the Bay Area for the last 10 years has made me a little b*tch when it comes to the weather, but it was 4° Fahrenheit outside as I wrote this. Come on. That's cold. I guess that meant most of my ideas would be back-burnered until spring or summer. What that also meant, though, was this would be the first proper braising and baking season I'd enjoyed in a long time. Nothing says "it's winter" as endearingly as a pot of beef stew simmering on the stove top or the aroma of freshly baked Christmas cookies permeating the house.
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| David Atherton's Fish Pie from The Great British Bake Off |
Okay. I knew I wanted to celebrate the joyous cooking season that an East Coast winter could be. How best to incorporate seafood or oysters into this? Yes, I'm aware oysters are at their absolute peak in the winter and there are myriad new and unique ones to try on the East Coast. In due time. I was looking for more of a cozy and covid-resurgence-safe indoor project. Something to enjoy with the family, and braising or baking seemed like a perfect fit. As for a braise, beyond squid, octopus, and a debatable fish or two, not many good low and slow cooked seafoods came to mind. Sure, few things are better on a cold night than steamy bowl of chowder or cioppino. But those felt like old hat and wouldn't occupy all my recently obtained free time thanks to omicron. That left me with baking. And while king mackerel muffins or black cod biscotti sound like horrifyingly bad ideas, there might be something to savory, warmth filled and pastry focused seafood dishes. Binge watching The Great British Bake Off may or may not have played a part in this as well.
There was one problem. I'm a shit baker. Maybe not that bad, but I never took a keen interest or really gave it the old college try. Without even the most novice of experience in making chocolate cake or apple pie, how the hell was I going to tackle a master task like flaky, well laminated puff pastry? Luckily, I have a wonderful co-parent and partner in culinary crime, Vanessa, who lives and breathes all things baking. Girl can make a mean pie crust from scratch while reviewing our mortgage, hosting a Zoom meeting for work, and chasing our son around the kitchen, all at the same time. With some coaxing, I finally convinced her to participate in my selfishly indulgent baked seafood bonanza. So, with opulent amounts of butter on hand and a savvy pâtissier by my side, I guess it's:
Maine Lobster Pot Pie
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| The Kennebunk Inn Lobster Pot Pie |
I love chicken pot pie. My family actually has a long running tradition of making what can best be described as sympathy or support pot pies. Serious injury or illness, you get a pot pie. Loss of a loved one, you get a pot pie. Welcoming a new baby, you get a pot pie. Everybody gets a pot pie! It's a timeless comfort food; a warm, edible hug that says "we're here and thinking of you." I wanted to start with something simple and identifiable, so a lobster pot pie made perfect sense. It's a rather common re-imagination of the classic dish, and The Kennebunk Inn in Maine has even received international recognition for theirs. Celebrity chef Cat Cora called it "the best thing she ever ate" on the namesake Food Network show.
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| Top left clockwise - Cooked Lobsters, Filling Prep, Pre-Bake Pot Pies, Shortcrust |
After grabbing a few lobsters from Hill's on a chilly Sunday afternoon, we busted out the steaming pot and rolling pin to get started. Vanessa knocked out her legendary shortcrust pastry: AP flour, kosher salt, butter, ice water, egg, and of course, more butter. I was expecting her to be slapping, kneading, and all the things associated with dough making. Pie crust, however, should be handled as little as possible. Overworking the dough will create gluten and make the final product tough and chewy. We wanted that flake. She brought together cold butter and flour as gently as possible til crumbly, worked in the egg and cold water, and formed it all into a ball. I steamed the lobsters and started cracking away. Both the shortcrust and the lobster meat went into the fridge for chilling.
For the pie filling, I'd had a refined lobster chowder of sorts with a slight sweetness in mind. I evenly cubed up carrots, onions and celery (or brunoised the mirepoix if you're feeling posh). I also cubed up red potatoes and fennel. That anise flavor fennel has goes great with lobster. I sauteed all this on high heat for a few minutes with some grapeseed oil in a dutch oven, then hit it with some cognac to deglaze and bring in that desired sweetness. Lobster and cognac are another great pairing. After the alcohol cooked off, I added in some butter and flour to make a light roux, followed by clam juice and heavy cream, then brought it all down to a simmer. The veggies cooked a little more until al dente and the filling gradually thickened. Right before it finished, I folded in some peas, parsley, and the lobster, and let it go a few minutes more for the flavors to meld. Shortcrust rolled out and we were ready for com-pie-lation.
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| Warren Avenue Lobster Pot Pies |
Keeping a little lobster meat and filling left over for snacking, of course, we ended up making four individual serving sized pies. Two for us, and two for some family members who'd recently tested positive for the 'vid. Like I said, support pot pies are a tradition. As for ours, light egg wash applied and into a 375° oven for 15-20 minutes. I also made two claw sized slits in the crust to pop in some lobster claws and fennel fronds at the end, kind of like a classic lamb shank pie presentation. The final product, quite delicious to say the least. Admittedly, we started with a layup on this one. Nailed on pie crust from Vanessa and a surefire lobster chowder all brought together couldn't really fail. It was warm, crispy, rich, savory, comforting and every other adjective you could tuck into your own personal little pot pie. Only adjustment I would make is the price of lobster, as this would be an excellent Sunday night staple if the pocketbook allowed.
Everything Spiced Smoked Salmon Pinwheels
This came to me as a cheeky "when in Rome" approach. As mentioned before, being in the suburbs kind of feels like being ten years behind the culinary curve. So, why not embrace that? Pinwheels are right up there with other anachronistic dishes like stuffed tomatoes, tuna casserole, and egg salad. You know, like those buffalo chicken pinwheels Carol brings to Nance and Bill's Super Bowl party every year. They are sooo good, and Carol won't tell anyone the secret ingredient. Three margaritas later and "shhh...it's a packet of Hidden Valley Ranch Seasoning." I'm actually pretty fond of some of these and genuinely believe the tupperware generation doesn't get enough appreciation. Some are truly terrible, though, so maybe it's just the contrarian in me. Either way, a puff pastry pinwheel would be a step-above-novice challenge, and while tongue in cheek, should still be delicious.
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| Aunt Jo making puff pastry with the Poilâne recipe for reference |
We were fortunate enough to have an even more veteran baker, my in-law Aunt Jo, visiting at the time. She's an expert in everything from your standard rough puff to newspaper thin sheets of filo. We had to employ such experience when making our puff pastry. Funny thing I started to realize, I was making it through this entire pastry foray without actually making any dough myself. True pros delegate, no? Quick reference to Vanessa's good friend's cookbook, Poilâne, and away we went with the kneading and laminating. Making puff pastry didn't seem the insurmountable task I'd assumed, it's just time consuming and a bit finicky. It's basically enveloping butter in dough, rolling, folding, and chilling. Then it's rolling, folding, and chilling. Again, rolling, folding, and chilling. Once again, rolling, folding...you get the point. We then had to wait a full 24 hours before we could actually use the dough. Not exactly a casual process.
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| Salmon Pinwheel Roll |
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| Willistown Everything Spiced Smoked Salmon Pinwheels |
There were some tweaks I'd definitely make on future versions. I should have whipped the cream cheese longer and flaked the salmon finer for a nicer uniformity and texture, which may have also made a better visual spiral. Dill would have been preferable to parsley. I also could have sliced the pinwheels thinner for more suitably sized appetizer bites, but all in all, I was happy. Due to "taste testing," fifteen quickly became twelve before plating. And nothing felt more appropriate than presenting them all dolled up with some lemon and parsley garnish on my most ostentatious oyster platter, boomer style. Watch out, Carol, 'cause I'm coming hard in the paint with everything spiced smoked salmon pinwheels at the March Madness Final Four party.
Steelhead Trout Wellington
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| Josh Niland's Fish Wellington |
Beef Wellingtons are admittedly out of style, but they're making a gradual comeback, or at least should be. Regardless, they taste great, are always showstoppers, and had everything that I wanted in my seafood pastry coupe de grâce. Whole fish or loins wrapped in pastry were more common than I'd originally thought. Various fish en croûte recipes by Gordon Ramsay, Martha Stewart, Jamie Oliver and others were all over the place in my research. Sydney based chef and avant-garde seafood master Josh Niland makes an impressive one. As I'd had decent success with guidance from his fish sausage recipe, I decided to use his version as my main reference. And going for that stunning look, a head on tail on whole fish was a must.
Mediterranean sea bass, also known as branzino or branzini, was my original idea for this approach, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go local. I'd already had Northeast trap caught lobster and salmon that was locally smoked, so it would be nice to keep the regional theme going. That meant trout. Don't get me wrong, branzino is a tasty fish and can be a very sustainable choice depending on how it's farmed. However, there's something weird about getting plain old sea bass all the way from Europe, especially as the carbon footprint from its 5,000 mile journey seems to negate the ecological benefits. It's also been annoyingly trendy for the last decade and almost cliché now. I bet you'd find it on one of those aforementioned suburban gastropub menus. Sorry, I'm sure they're all very pleasant establishments with great kale caesar salads and Nashville hot chicken sandwiches.
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| Hudson Valley Steelhead on a Snow Day |
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| Top left clockwise - Steelhead Butchery, Pre-Bake Wellington, Duxelles Prep |
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| Duffy's Cut Steelhead Trout Wellington |
Although those 25 minutes felt like an eternity, the result was well worth the wait. A decadent showstopper indeed, and it tasted great. The puff pastry was crispy, buttery, and popped with a heavy sprinkle of Maldon sea salt. Cracklings I'd made from the steelhead skin added a nice crunch on top too. The trout had a mild, clean yet slightly earthy flavor that was complimented well by the mushroom, garlic, and spinach. I know many people say saltwater fish are better than freshwater, but I genuinely prefer the latter. There's a pleasing gaminess to them that most saltwater fish don't have. When I think of what fish tastes like, it's freshwater like trout, yellow perch, and lake whitefish that first come to mind. The only issue with the Wellington was the worst possible offense of all - a soggy bottom. Paul Hollywood would not have approved. I'm not quite sure what happened. I could have left too much moisture in the duxelles, may not have used enough filo, or the Pyrex baking dish might not have been the best medium. I'll try out some different methods in the future. Either way, it wasn't a complete deal breaker. Vanessa and I had lovely snowy Saturday evening dinner with a bright side salad, and then enjoyed some Great British Bake Off - Holiday Edition.
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| Sliced Steelhead Trout Wellington |
Overall, our seafood pastry experiments were a success. We had some quality creations, quality educational experiences, and most importantly, some quality family time together. However, I won't lie, as much as I love family time and the indoors, I can't wait for spring to arrive and the covid-surge to subside. Philadelphia has so much seafood culture to offer, explore, and nerd out on - just preferably in above freezing temperatures. And as much I knock the suburbs, there's tons of wonderful stuff to explore here too. Please, just ease off the gastropubs and taprooms. I hope you're braving the inclement weather and pandemic with some fun culinary projects of your own. Whatever you do, keep it crispy.
Cheers,
The SF Oyster Nerd
The SF Oyster Nerd
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