Spain on a Plate: Squid, Chickpea, and Chorizo Salad

This dish can best be described as Spain on a plate, from the spicy chorizo (pronounced chore-e-tho, as I learned on a recent trip to Spain), to the hot smoked paprika (love this stuff), to one of my favorite little cephalopods -- squid.  It requires minimum effort, but the result is maximum in flavor. Just a handful of ingredients is needed to transform the ordinary chickpea (aka garbanzo bean) into a flavorful plate of food. 

On most days, I feel like I am just biding my time, waiting to sit down in the evening to a good meal, a glass of wine, and good company. These are the little, everyday things in life that I cherish the most. Although, if we were eating this meal in Spain, dinner would be served closer to 10:00 p.m. (or later); many restaurants don't even open for dinner until at least 9:00 p.m. And, if you show up closer to 9:00 p.m. rather than 10:00 p.m., you will quickly distinguish yourself as a tourist (as we quickly learned).

If you happen to have access to a grill, you can grill the squid (and peppers too) to impart a nice smokiness that is a hallmark of charcoal grilling. This is how I prefer to cook squid, if only I had a grill and a location to store it (which I sadly do not, given my rather compact ~800 square foot apartment).  

A few summer's back, while driving across the north coast of Spain and through the town of Ribadesella, we spotted this farmers' market. Of course, I cannot resist a farmers' market, home or abroad, so we pulled off the road in search of culinary treasures. We picked up a link of spicy chorizo -- by far, the best chorizo I have ever tasted. What made this the best chorizo I ever had? It was spicy and smoky and oily and delicious -- quite a bit stronger in flavor than chorizo you find back in the States. Was hard pressed not to devour it in one sitting, but rather, attempted to savor it over the course of the week. A difficult feat, as every time you stepped into our hotel room, you were instantly hit with the intoxicating aroma of chorizo.

Oh, how I wish I had some of that spicy chorizo right now!

Squid + Spicy Chorizo + Hot Smoked Paprika = Deliciousness!

Squid, Chickpea, and Chorizo Salad

Mix of peppers (used 2 red bell peppers, 1 orange bell pepper, 2 Anaheim or Cubanelle)
3 1/2 cups *cooked chickpeas (can use canned chickpeas), rinsed and drained
1 small bunch of parsley, about 3/4 cup chopped plus extra to garnish

2 Fresno chiles, seeded and thinly sliced
1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped 
1 1/3 pounds squid, bodies sliced into ~ 1/2-inch thick rings, tentacles chopped in half
12 ounces spicy Spanish chorizo,  cut into small cubes
Sea salt and black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon hot smoked paprika
Juice and zest of 1 large lemon

*I prefer the texture of dried beans compared to canned (which tend to be a bit too soft for my preference).

Roast the peppers on an open gas flame, turning with metal tongs, until charred on all sides (alternatively, can place under the broiler or roast on the grill, turning every few minutes). Place in a paper bag about 10 minutes. Remove from the bag, and with the side of  a chef's knife, scrape away the charred skin. Cut open and seed the peppers. Cut into thin slices. In a large bowl mix the peppers and any juices with the chickpeas, parsley, and Fresno chiles. Set aside.

Heat a large skillet over high heat until smoking. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil to the pan. Add the garlic and saute ~30 seconds. Add the squid and stir-fry for ~2 minutes. Scatter the chorizo over the squid, continue to cook for 1 more minute.  Add the garlic, squid, and chorizo to the bowl with the peppers and chickpeas. Season with salt and pepper, hot smoked paprika, then dress with the remaining olive oil, lemon juice and lemon zest. Mix together. Garnish with chopped parsley and a drizzle of olive oil.

*Alternatively, prepare the squid and peppers on the grill.

Love all the colors of the peppers...so vibrant!

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Signs of Spring: Stinging Nettle and Cherry Blossoms

 When diet is wrong medicine is of no use.
When diet is correct medicine is of no need.
~Ayurvedic Proverb

Thursday was the opening day of the Washington, D.C., Penn Quarter farmers' market. Was eager to see what fruits and vegetables would be making their spring debut, so I scooted out of work a few minutes early, jumped on the metro, and headed downtown. Still a bit early in the season for many of my favorites (ramps, garlic scapes, peas, fava beans, morels); however, there were a few surprises.

Stinging nettle, to some pesty weeds (along with the likes of dandelion greens, purslane, lamb's quarters, etc.), to others edible and satisfying greens. As the name implies, stinging nettle leaves and stems have tiny hairs (called trichomes) that will sting you upon contact. So be careful handling these greens and don't eat them raw (not that they are poisonous, but rather they may be a bit unpleasant). However, just a few minutes of blanching neutralizes the sting and renders them completely edible. Nettles are rather mild in flavor, similar in taste to spinach. They can be used in just about any dish that calls for greens (alone or in combination) -- nettle soup, risotto, pesto, and ravioli to name a few -- or enjoy on their own, simply sauteed with a olive oil and garlic.

After chatting with the farmer from whom I bought the stinging nettle (along with wild watercress and flowering mustard greens) about ways to prepare these somewhat unfamiliar greens, I ultimately decided a simple pesto would be an easy (and tasty) way to highlight their flavor. Of course, I couldn't just stop at pesto, and immediately began  to think about ways to use the nettle pesto. This time, shirred eggs (i.e., eggs with a splash of heavy cream). My new favorite way to prepare eggs -- extremely creamy and luscious. Next time maybe nettle pesto and pizza or pasta, or....just came across a recipe for green nettle curry, now that sounds interesting.

Stinging nettle grows wild, so you can forage for them (along with other "weeds"), in which case they are not only tasty, but extremely economical.

Stinging Nettle Pesto

2 bunches stinging nettles (7.5 ounces); ~2 cups blanched
1/4 cup walnuts
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese, grated
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
2/3 cup olive oil
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Squeeze of lemon

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Drop in the nettles and cook about 1 to 2 minutes. Place in a cold water bath. Drain and squeeze out any excess water. Remove the larger stems (they may be a bit woody), and chop the leaves and smaller stems. Set aside.

Toast the walnuts on a dry skillet over low heat, until lightly browned and aromatic.

Place the walnuts in a food processor and pulse a few times until broken down into smaller pieces. Add the nettles, garlic, and Parmesan. With the motor running, slowly add the oil, until well combined. Season with salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon.

Shirred Eggs with Nettle Pesto

2 individual (4-6 ounce) ramekins or 1 large ramekin (as pictured)
4 eggs

2 tablespoons heavy cream
Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper
Nettle pesto (or your favorite pesto)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Lightly butter or oil the ramekins. Crack 2 eggs into each individual ramekin or 4 eggs if using one large ramekin. Add 1 tablespoon of cream to each individual ramekin or 2 tablespoons if using one large ramekin. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Bake until whites are set and opaque but yolks are still runny, about 17 to 20 minutes. Spoon a tablespoon or two of the pesto over each, along with a dash of coarse sea salt. Serve immediately.

A few shots of the cherry blossoms in downtown Washington, D.C...Happy Spring!

Quinoa and Wild Rice Pilaf with Pistachio Piccata

Spring is in the air. I can hear the birds happily chirping outside my window each morning. This puts me in the mood for something light and springy. Quinoa and wild rice pilaf, accompanied by a pistachio piccata, is on today's menu. I got the idea for the pistachio piccata from Barton Seaver's For Cod and Country; Seaver is a Washington, D.C., chef and National Geographic Fellow. It's a great cookbook that highlights simple and sustainable cooking of predominantly fish and seafood (with a few other seasonal recipes scattered in). While I'm eager to try out more of his fish/seafood recipes, this piccata jumped out at me for its originality.

A piccata you may ask (or at least that's what I asked myself)? Curious, I did a bit of  research into the origin of piccata. Its origin is decidedly vague, but what I've learned is that piccata is typically used to describe meat (usually veal or chicken) that has been sliced and sautéed with lemon, parsley and butter. So, to call this pistachio preparation -- with lemon zest, garlic, and olive oil -- a piccata, may be a rather loose interpretation of this term. Regardless, the pistachio piccata provides a nice amount of nuttiness to your ordinary rice pilaf. In addition to wild brown rice, I added toasted quinoa. Toasting the quinoa helps to release its oils, which heighten its nutty flavors.

In leiu of your ordinary lemon, I used Meyer lemon in the pilaf and piccata. Did you know that a Meyer lemon is not a lemon? It's actually a hybrid between a regular lemon and a mandarin orange. A Meyer lemon is a bit sweeter and less tart (and less acidic) than your regular lemon, but not quite as sweet as an orange. They're also super juicy. So, if you come across these guys, give them a try. If they are not available, substitute a regular lemon, an orange, or even a mandarin orange.

 Quinoa and Wild Rice Pilaf with Pistachio Piccata
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1 onion, finely chopped

1 cup quinoa, rinsed and drained
1 1/2 cups chicken stock or water
Zest of 1 (Meyer or regular) lemon
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, finely chopped
1 cup wild brown rice
Juice of 1 (Meyer or regular) lemon plus extra for squeezing over the finished dish
1 tablespoon fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped
1 green onion, thinly sliced
Large handful baby arugula leaves (or more to your liking)

Pistachio piccata (see recipe below)

Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper to taste
Drizzle of good quality extra virgin olive oil

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. When hot, add the onion and 1/4 teaspoon salt and cook until the onion is soft (but not browned), about 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in the quinoa and toast, about 5 minutes, until aromatic. Add the chicken stock or water, lemon zest, and thyme, and simmer, covered, about 15 minutes. Let sit 10 minutes with a clean towel over top. Fluff up with a fork.

Rinse the rice. Add the rice and 2 cups of water to a pot with a tight-fitting lid. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, cover and simmer 25-30 minutes (I like mine al dente). Remove from the heat and allow it to sit covered for 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, mix the quinoa, rice, lemon juice, parsley or cilantro, and green onion. Chill in the refrigerator. When ready to serve, mix in the arugula, a few tablespoons (or more) of the pistachio piccata. Season with salt and pepper. Finish with a nice squeeze of lemon juice, a drizzle of good extra virgin olive oil, and top with a little more of the piccata.

Pistachio Piccata
Adapted from Barton Seaver's Cod and Country
1 cup shelled, pistachios, chopped
Finely grated zest of one Meyer or regular lemon
2 cloves of garlic, finely minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
Sea salt, to taste

In a small bowl, mix the pistachios, zest, garlic, olive oil, and salt. Let sit for at least 20 minutes at room temperature.

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Spinach and Ricotta Gnudi

Recently learned that I will be traveling to Florence, Italy, for work. As a university researcher, am not accustomed to jetting off to exciting places, save for Minnesota. My daily routine is, well, quite routine; thus, was quite pleased (or rather, shocked) to get a call from my supervisor asking if I wanted to go to a conference in Florence. Yes, I mean, si, of course!

Ironically, this is the photo that sits in front of me, hanging on my wall, just staring back, taunting me all day long. I took this photo over ten years ago, August 2001, (with a film camera) on my very first trip to Italy (first trip to Europe for that matter). This first trip -- a whirlwind adventure through France, Italy, and Greece -- instantly changed my world. From that point forward, I was hooked on traveling abroad, not to mention mesmerized by a food scene, which up until then, I had no idea existed. Now, over ten years later, will return to one of the cities where it all began. With a few more trips under my belt and a greater appreciation for food (and wine), am eager to return to Florence.

So, now the difficult part -- deciding where to eat? There are a plethora of choices in Florence. I've conducted a little research so far, but am open to suggestions. Anyone have any recommendations for favorite restaurants, markets, specialty food shops??

In anticipation of my pending trip, decided to prepare a dish with Tuscan roots -- spinach and ricotta gnudi. Gnudi (pronounced nu-dee) means "naked" in Italian; gnudi is essentially ravioli filling without the pasta wrapper. They are light, little puffy pillows of spinach and fresh ricotta goodness, bound together with egg and flour. The flour, when cooked, forms a thin shell, enveloping the spinach and ricotta mixture. They're quite delicate in flavor and texture, the spinach and ricotta are mild, but still make their presence known. Typically, gnudi are served in a brown butter sage or tomato sauce. I opted for a light, smooth tomato sauce with fresh herbs (basil and thyme). Seemed fitting with the unseasonably warm (80-degree) March weather.

Spinach and Ricotta Gnudi 1 pound spinach leaves 1 cup (8 ounces) fresh ricotta 2 eggs 1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan plus more for serving *~1/2 cup all-purpose or 00 flour plus more for dredging Sea salt, to taste Pinch of nutmeg

Clean and wash the spinach. Cook for 3-5 minutes in a saucepan with just a small amount of boiling, salted water, until bright green. When cold, squeeze out the excess water and chop finely. Place in a large bowl with the ricotta, eggs, grated Parmesan, sea salt (~ 1/2 teaspoon), and a pinch of nutmeg. Gently stir in the flour, mixing just enough to pull the mixture together (*the less flour you use the better, just enough to prevent the gnudi from falling apart).  

Using floured hands, gently shape about 1 tablespoon of the mixture into a log, about 1-inch long. Dust a clean work surface liberally with flour. Gently roll the balls around in the flour until they are evenly dusted. Shake off the excess flour. Refrigerate at least an hour, preferably overnight.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Drop in the gnudi (in batches). They are cooked when they rise to the surface. Remove with a strainer and serve immediately in warmed bowls with sauce -- either a light tomato or sage and butter sauce. Grate a little Parmesan over each plate.

Light Tomato Sauce
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 28-oz can of tomatoes
1 cup chicken broth
~12-14 basil leaves, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, chopped
Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper to taste

Heat the olive oil in a sauce pan. Add the garlic and saute about 30 seconds to a minute, until soft (but not browned). Add the tomatoes, chicken broth, basil, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste. With an immersion blender, puree until smooth. Simmer over low heat, about 10 minutes. 

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Wakame Miso Soup and Salad

When you think of soup and salad, seaweed is probably not the first thing that springs to mind.  But, there's a whole world of seaweed out there to be discovered.  In fact, there's almost an entire aisle devoted to seaweed at my local Asian market.  Wakame, hijiki, arame, dulse, kombu, kelp, and nori are some of the more common varieties, but the list goes on.  Seaweed is abundant in trace minerals, containing virtually all the minerals found in the ocean (and many of the same minerals necessary for our body to properly function). 

A little more on these popular types of sea vegetables:

Arame: lacy, wiry dark brown strands, sweeter and milder in taste than other sea vegetables; 
Dulse: soft, chewy texture, with a reddish-brown color;
Nori: dark purple-black color that turns phosphorescent green when toasted, used for making sushi rolls;

Kelp: light brown to dark green in color, often times available in flake form;
Hijiki: looks like small strands of black wiry pasta, has a stronger flavor;
Kombu: grayish-black, sun-dried and then folded into sheets, used as a flavoring in soups (e.g., dashi);
Wakame: deep green in color, most commonly used in soups and salads.

I used two types of seaweed to prepare these dishes.  First, wakame was used in the miso soup and salad.  Second, kombu was used to make the dashi (the basic stock for miso soup). This may all seem a bit foreign at first glance, but once you gather a few key ingredients, making the soup and salad are a snap.  You can prepare the dashi ahead of time such that all you have left to do is add the miso to form the basis of the soup.  From there you can add whatever you like -- anything from (wakame) seaweed and tofu, to mushrooms, to seafood, such as clams, mussels, or shrimp...

A bit about miso...

White miso (aka shiromiso miso; shiro means white in Japanese) is usually fermented for a much shorter period of time than darker colored miso and is usually the sweetest.  White miso is made with a large amount of rice, so you may also hear it being referred to as kome miso (kome means rice in Japanese).

When soybeans are fermented together with barley, the result is usually a miso that is yellow (or very light brown) in color.  Since the Japanese word mugi can be used to refer to the general category of cereal grains (including barley and wheat), you will sometimes hear yellow miso being referred to as mugi miso.

Red miso is sometimes called akamimso miso (akamimso means red in Japanese).  If a red miso is a very dark reddish brown color, the brownish color may be the result of the soybeans having been steamed prior to fermentation.  While barley, rice and other grains may be used in the production of red miso, it is usually characterized by a very high percentage of soybeans, and for this reason is sometimes referred to as mame miso (mame means bean in Japanese). 

Dark brown and red miso usually get their strong flavors from longer periods of fermentation (some ferment for as long as three years).

Other names you might hear for different varieties of miso include:

genmai miso (brown rice-containing miso)
soba miso or sobamugi miso (buckwheat-containing miso)  
taima miso (hemp seed-containing miso)
natto miso (chutney-type miso that usually containing barley and ginger) 

Wakame Miso Soup
4 cups dashi (recipe below)
1 1/2 tablespoons red miso
1 1/2 tablespoons white miso

additions
wakame seaweed, rehydrated in cold water and drained
tofu, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
green onions, thinly sliced on a bias
*togarashi (optional)

more additions -- swap out the tofu and add:

seafood (such as clams, mussels, shrimp) or

mushrooms.

Bring the dashi to a slow simmer.  Combine the two kinds of miso in a mixing bowl.  Add a few tablespoons of the dashi to the miso, and whisk until miso is well incorporated.  Stir the miso into the simmering dashi. 

Place a tablespoon or two of wakame and tofu at the bottom of each bowl.  Pour the hot broth over top.  Garnish with green onions, and a sprinkling of togarashi.

*togarashi is a spice mix of orange peel, black, white and toasted sesame seeds, cayenne, ginger, Szechuan pepper and nori.

Dashi

4 cups water
1 (6-inch) piece kombu
3/4 ounce dried, shaved bonito flakes

Add 4 cups water with kombu over medium heat and bring to a boil.  Remove the kombu. Add the bonito and stir once to mix.  As soon as the liquid boils, lower the heat and simmer 5 minutes.  Turn off the heat and steep 15 minutes.  Strain the bonito flakes.  Can be made up to 3 days ahead.  Cover and refrigerate (you can also freeze dashi).

I like to mix wakame with an assortment of leafy greens, along with whatever else is in season -- this time, purple cosmic and orange carrots, cucumber, and green onions -- and dress with homemade carrot- miso-ginger dressing.  Lastly, I finished with some smoked tofu that I crisped up in a little olive oil.  I smoked the tofu (with cherry wood) in my stove top smoker, but have also recently discovered smoked tofu at my grocery store.  The smoky flavor gives a little pizazz to the otherwise nondescript tasting tofu.

Wakame Salad

Tofu (plain or smoked), ~1/2-inch cubes
1 tablespoon oil for frying the tofu
Wakame seaweed, rehydrated in cold water and drained

Mixed salad greens
2 small carrots, shaved with a vegetable peeler
1 small cucumber, thinly sliced
Green onions, thinly sliced on a bias
Carrot-miso-ginger dressing (recipe below)
Sesame seeds

Heat a wok with the oil.  When smoking hot, add the tofu and fry a few minutes, until crisp and browned.  Remove with a slotted spoon and let drain on paper towels.

Mix the wakame, greens, carrots, and green onions in a large bowl.  Toss with the dressing. Top with the crispy tofu and garnish with sesame seeds.

Carrot-Miso-Ginger Dressing

recipe adapted (ever so slightly) from Mark Bittman, makes about 1 1/4 cups

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1/4 cup rice vinegar

3 tablespoons mild or sweet miso, such as yellow or white

1 tablespoon dark sesame oil

2 medium carrots, roughly chopped

1 inch long piece fresh ginger, cut into coins
Pinch of cayenne

Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper

Put all ingredients, except the salt and pepper, into a food processor and pulse a few times to mince carrots.  Then let the machine run for a minute or so, until mixture is chunky-smooth.  Taste and add salt and pepper to preference.

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I ♥ Squid Ink

Somewhere between Chicago, Spain, and Italy, I fell in love with squid ink. Can't recall where I first sampled it, but what I do remember is that it was unlike anything I had ever tasted. I've had chipirones en su tinta (or squid in its own ink) out on numerous occasions, but never realized how easy it is to prepare at home. The depth of flavor fooled me into thinking that this must be an intricate sauce that required hours of preparation. In reality, the only difficult aspect to preparing this sauce is, perhaps, tracking down the squid ink. While not the easiest of ingredients to come by, I have started seeing it around lately. In the D.C. area you can find it here, here, and here.

Hard to describe the flavor of squid ink, other than to say it tastes like the sea. Recently came across the term merroir. Similar to terroir -- the essence of land or place -- merrior can be thought of as the essence of the sea. I’ve heard this term used with oysters, which may be the quintessential example of merroir. Depending on the waters from which they are harvested, oysters take on distinct qualities. East coast oysters tend to be stronger, more briny, more salty; whereas, West coast oysters tend to be more mild, more sweet. Squid ink has those same briny, salty qualities that come only from the sea or its merroir, the waters in which these eight-legged, funny-looking creatures have been swimming around.

For me, this is comfort food personified. Just give me a big bowl of squid in its own ink (and a nice view of the Mediterranean Sea), and I'm one happy girl! Be happy, eat this dish.

Recently discovered that it is considerably less messy to blend the sauce prior to adding the squid ink, as the squid ink will stain everything it comes in contact with a nice black hue. After blending, add the squid ink and give it a stir to incorporate. Then, bring to a simmer and add the squid.

I've typically seen squid ink come in these little packets. Salt is usually added to the ink, so taste the sauce before adding more salt.

 

Squid in its own Ink

Adapted from Jose Andres's A Taste of Spain in America

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 small or 1 large onion, sliced thinly

1 large garlic clove, peeled
1 bay leaf
1/2 red pepper, sliced thinly
1/4 cup red wine

3 small tomatoes, seeds removed, chopped (can substitute canned tomatoes)
1 cup water (or fish stock)
3 teaspoons squid ink (4 packets)

1 lb squid, cleaned and cut into ~1/2 inch rings
Sea salt to taste

Parsley, finely chopped for garnish

Heat the olive oil in a wide shallow pan (used a 2 1/2 quart braising pan) over medium heat. Add the onions, clove of garlic, bay leaf, and red peppers, and cook, stirring occasionally until the onions caramelize, about 30 minutes. If the onions start to get too brown, add a tablespoon or two of cold water. Add the wine and cook until reduced in half. Add the tomatoes and cook until the tomatoes turn a deep brown and the water cooks out. Add the water (or fish stock). 

Remove from the heat, take out the bay leaf, and blend with an immersion blender or food processor until smooth. 

Return the sauce to the heat and add the squid ink. Bring to a simmer and add the squid (body and tentacles) and simmer for another 15 to 20 minutes until the squid are soft. Season with salt to taste. Garnish with chopped parsley.

Enjoy over pasta, a side of rice, or simply on its own!

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Whole Fish with Chermoula

I love Sunday -- a day to do whatever you like, no meetings, no conference calls, nothing scheduled, but a nice, long leisurely lunch for two. I got up, went for a run, walked to the farmers' market, restocked on vegetables for the week, and picked up a yellowtail snapper on my way home. Am now ready for a glass of wine and a relaxing lunch. 

After several trips to Greece, where they are most adept at grilling whole fish, I have fallen in love with this preparation. Given my fondness for whole fish, I've tried to persuade family and friends to come on board. But, time after time, they comment regarding how they cannot get past the head and eyes staring back at them. If you can overlook, or even better still, embrace, the fact that this fish (like all fish) once possessed a head and two eyeballs, just like a fillet of the same, you will not be disappointed. In my opinion, whole fish tastes infinitely better than a fish that has been filleted (just like roasting a whole chicken tastes decidedly better than a boneless, skinless chicken breast). Cooking the fish whole keeps the meat moist, in addition to allowing the skin to get nice and crispy (yum). 

While my favorite way to prepare whole fish is on a charcoal grill, unfortunately, this city dweller does not have ready access to one. Next best option is to pan fry. Both methods are similar and rather easy to execute. Season the fish, stuff with fresh herbs, then grill or pan fry. The key, allow the grill or pan to get hot before you add the fish, and then leave the fish alone (while keeping a close eye) until it's ready to be flipped. The fish is ready to be flipped when the skin releases easily from the grill or pan. You can see below that the skin is a nice golden-brown color.

Pan Fried Whole Fish 
1 1/2 to 2-pound fish (such as snapper, branzini, porgie, mackerel, pampano)
Sprigs of fresh herbs (such as cilantro, thyme, rosemary, oregano)
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil for pan frying
Chermoula (recipe below)

Season the cavity with salt and pepper, and stuff with a few sprigs of fresh herbs. Season both sides of the fish with salt and pepper. With a sharp knife, score the fish by slicing at an angle all the way to the bone (about three slits per side). Scoring the fish helps distribute the heat so the fish cooks evenly.

Heat a wide skillet over medium heat. Add about 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil to the pan (just enough to coat the pan). When the pan is nice and hot and the oil starts to smoke, add the fish to the pan. Cook for about 8 to 8 1/2 minutes (depending on the size of the fish). When the fish gives way and the skin is golden brown, flip the fish and cook for an additional 8 to 8 1/2 minutes. Serve with a side of chermoula.

I like a simple sauce to accompany my fish. This time around, I prepared chermoula (or charmoula), a sauce of Moroccan origin. There are many iterations of chermoula, but the foundation is typically a mixture of fresh herbs, oil, lemon juice, preserved lemons, garlic, cumin, and salt; some recipes call for onion or shallot, coriander, chili peppers, and/or saffron. I like mine with a healthy pinch of smoked hot paprika, but then again I think paprika goes with just about everything. In Morocco, chermoula is traditionally served with a fish tagine of potatoes, tomatoes, and green peppers, but it's also great served simply over whole grilled fish, roasted vegetables, seafood, such as scallops or shrimp, grilled meats, poultry...quite versatile to say the least.

Chermoula

adapted slightly from Saveur 

3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

10 sprigs fresh cilantro, minced

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 red chile (Fresno or Holland), minced

1 shallot, halved and thinly sliced
cayenne to taste (optional)
sea salt, to taste

Combine the first ten ingredients in a medium bowl (along with the cayenne, if using) and season with salt. Cover and let sit at least one hour at room temperature to let flavors meld.
 Stir before serving.

Serve with some sauteed greens or a mixed greens salad, crusty bread (to sop up the delicious sauce), and a glass or two of white wine (such as Albariño, Viognier, or Vermentino). A simply perfect Mediterranean meal in just a matter of minutes!

BTW, the yellow flowers are flowering turnips (in the same family as broccoli rabe, but a bit milder in taste).

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