Rockport and Fish Cakes

Sometimes, you just get swallowed. It happens to me all the time. I feel like I sit down for a moment, and by the time I look back up, it’s two weeks later.

Oh, wait. It is.

Hi, reader. I’m a Masters student in French Literature, and I hardly have time to wash my hair.

That being said, I do occasionally get to take a break, like a few weeks ago, when my Aunt/Godmother/the owner of most of these recipes came for a visit.

I’m always amazed at how different people inspire different tours of Paris; each time someone’s visiting me, I feel as though I’m meeting Paris again. My aunt has been here several times before; like when my mom visits, there was no need to hit the typical tourist spots. Instead, we did three of our favorite things:

1. Walk.

2. Shop.

3. Eat.

And we did them very, very well.

I could tell you all about everything I saw, but the truth of the matter is, most of the time, we just wandered — in and out of vintage shops, in one of which I bought a fantastic polka-dot dress; in and out of cafés, where we ordered more café gourmand then either of us knew what to do with, and ranked them accordingly; in and out of food shops, where we made audible drooling noises and became those crazy American people.

I could tell you about it, and I’m sure portions of our time spent together will come up in subsequent entries… but what I wanted to talk about today is a different place, far from Paris.

Rockport, Mass.

Why Rockport? Well, firstly, why not? It’s a foodie heaven, home to both fantastic fudge and even more fantastic lobster. It’s one of the cutest towns you’ll ever see, with a Main Street that looks like it walked straight out of a WB show set in New England.

And secondly… because this is where my aunt took me, three years ago.

I was visiting the States with the Parisian — God, that feels like a long time ago — and he, Little Sister’s foreign exchange student and I decided to take a ferry ride up to Boston. We stayed with my aunt, wandering through the city during a heat wave that looked as though it might bring a tornado (it didn’t), and when we had had enough of the heat, we drove up to one of Massachusetts’ dry towns — a concept that the Parisian could not overcome for the life of him.

I, meanwhile, contented myself with looking at local artisan masterpieces — yet another way that Godmother-Aunt and I are similar — and, of course, with eating.

While in Paris, I was the guide; I knew all of the places and the best things to order. I translated menus and asked for the check. It’s a position I’ve grown comfortable with over the years, but that doesn’t mean it’s not nice when someone does it for you. My Godmother-Aunt selected Roy Moore’s for our quintessential steamed lobster experience: eaten on wooden chairs, with a huge stack of paper napkins and little plastic containers of melted butter for dipping. In Paris, she fell in love with crispy roast chicken skin; I crave a whole lobster, bib and all. It’s the little things we miss, I suppose.

I do not make or buy lobster in France, and even if I did decide to pay the exorbitant fees for the breed of lobster-like crustacean we saw at the market, — “Not lobster,” the Bostonian said, decisively — I don’t think I would eat them the way we did in New England. There’s a place and a time for everything: café gourmand in Paris, and lobster in Massachusetts.

That being said, there’s no reason I can’t make other seafood specialties in Paris, like these fish cakes. Scrod is an acronym for “Seaman’s Catch Received on Deck” and can refer to a wide variety of white fish like cod, haddock, halibut or flounder any of which can be used in these cakes. While scrod refers to fresh fish that has been deboned for sale, frozen will do here, in a pinch.

Scrod Fish Cakes (makes about a dozen)
1 medium potato (about 200 g. raw)
1 clove garlic, peeled
2 medium fillets of scrod (about 200 g. raw)
2 eggs
1/4 cup unseasoned breadcrumbs
2 Tbsp. grated parmesan cheese
1 tsp. Old Bay seasoning
1 tsp. salt
vegetable oil (for frying)

Peel the potato and cut into chunks. Place into a pot with the garlic. Fill the pot with cold water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook for 20 minutes, or until the potato and garlic clove are tender.

Remove from the water to a bowl, and reduce the heat to medium. Poach the fish fillets in just simmering until nearly cooked, about 10-15 minutes. Remove and allow to cool slightly.

Mash the potato and garlic together until creamy. Beat the eggs together in a small bowl, then mix into the potato mixture. Flake the fish with two forks and fold into the potatoes, along with the breadcrumbs, cheese, Old Bay and salt.

In a wide, heavy-bottomed frying pan, heat a couple of tablespoons of oil over medium-high heat. When a small amount of the mixture sizzles when dropped into the oil, it’s ready. Using a tablespoon, form spheres about the size of golf balls. Flatten slightly and fry in batches, about 2 minutes per side, until golden. Serve with tartar sauce (photo shows them served with sautéed zucchini and onions, which is also delicious and will soon be seasonal).