Recently, Jax and I cranked up the AC and pretended it was a cold, wet night outside so we could enjoying steaming bowls of fish chowder with the right mindset. Oh how I love a good chowder. I started this one by peeling and parboiling three large potatoes and set them in the fridge to cool. I also put on a pot of boiling water with a bay leaf and some peppercorns in it. This would be my "herbal stock" that I would later add at intervals to the actual chowder.
About an hour before we were ready to eat, I fried some lovely center cut bacon in my French enamel cast iron pot and set it aside for later. In that same pot, I sauteed leeks and celery. We had about a cup of leftover cheap champagne and I used this for the sautee´ as well. When the aromatics were soft, I put in liberal helpings of garlic, thyme and Italian parsley.
When this was cooked down to a pulpy mess, I added a bottle of clam juice and let it reduce halfway. That's when I began adding ladles of of my bay/pepper water. Then, a half hour before serving, I dumped in the potatoes and more fresh parsley. Stirring constantly, I kept this mixture on medium-high heat for about fifteen minutes (this is when you really need that bay/pepper water, as the potatoes soak up a lot of the liquid).
Finally, it was time to put the pound of tilapia filets into the cast iron. After cooking a final ten minutes, the only thing then left to do was stir in a cup of heavy whipping cream, melt a quarter pound of Double Devon butter, and top with fresh cracked pepper and crumbled bacon.
Light it aint. But it sho is delicious.
As an addendum, I'll leave you with this lovely poem about chowder by Pablo Neruda. It never fails to leave me feeling happy, horny, and hungry:
Ode To Conger Chowder
In the storm-tossed
Chilean
sea
lives the rosy conger,
giant eel
of snowy flesh.
And in Chilean
stewpots,
along the coast,
was born the chowder,
thick and succulent,
a boon to man.
You bring the conger, skinned,
to the kitchen
(its mottled skin slips off
like a glove,
leaving the
grape of the sea
exposed to the world),
naked,
the tender eel
glistens,
prepared
to serve our appetites.
Now
you take
garlic,
first, caress
that precious
ivory,
smell
its irate fragrance,
then
blend the minced garlic
with onion
and tomato
until the onion
is the color of gold.
Meanwhile steam
our regal
ocean prawns,
and when
they are
tender,
when the savor is
set in a sauce
combining the liquors
of the ocean
and the clear water
released from the light of the onion,
then
you add the eel
that it may be immersed in glory,
that it may steep in the oils
of the pot,
shrink and be saturated.
Now all that remains is to
drop a dollop of cream
into the concoction,
a heavy rose,
then slowly
deliver
the treasure to the flame,
until in the chowder
are warmed
the essences of Chile,
and to the table
come, newly wed,
the savors
of land and sea,
that in this dish
you may know heaven.
-Pablo Neruda
Might I say, the second pie was just as smack-your-mama good as the first? If you don't believe me, just as Stu.
