Spring is indubitably coming to the District of Columbia. The piles of snow shrink daily until they only lurk on the street corners where the plows pushed them to get them off the street. And to celebrate spring, or its incipiant arrival, Chartres Street Trout is a good recipe.
In case anyone is wondering, I believe Chartres Street refers to New Orleans.Anyway, this recipe is in the South section. I was asked if they sold this dish on the streets of Chartre. While I cannot say definitively not, the last time I was there, (last March) there did not seem to be anyone selling anything on the street. It was bloody cold and blowing a gale.
Anyway, to the dish. Very simple. You take as many fileted trout as you have diners, lay them out on a cookie sheet covered with a piece of buttered tin foil, sprinkle them with salt and pepper, dot with butter. (I always liked that phrase.), cover with another sheet of tin foil and stick it in a 350 degree oven for 8-10 minutes, which just gives you time to set the table and boil the asparagus.
Cook until done, as cookbooks used to say usefully. After you take it out, sprinkle it with lemon juice and capers. The recipe calls for 1/4 cup chopped parsley, but the Berkshire Farmer's husband has some kind of blood condition that forbids parsley. So I leave it out. And eat with small boiled potatoes and asparagus, which happened to be only $1.28 at Safeway. Happy spring.
The fish and shellfish area of the chapter on the South is a fertile area for cooking containing many delicious and uncooked recipes. Getting people to eat it will be a problem, since nearly all of them contain crab, shrimp, lobster, scallops, clams and oysters, which the BF's husband also cannot eat. Poor husband. He loves this stuff and they give him hives.
Pre kids, far off in the mists of time, 1976 to be exact, BF and BFH took a vacation in Nova Scotia. We were driven to it by the Visit Canada ads on tv. Every night, where ever there were Digby Bay scallops on the menu, we ate them. Then, on the last day, as we were driving to the ferry, what should we spy but the exit for Digby Bay. Scallop alert, we yelled, and took the exit, drove into Digby Bay and scarfed down a plateful of fried Digby Bay scallops at a diner. It was the last plate of scallops BFH was to eat. Very sad. Imagine, having to go for 35 years without eating scallops.
Yo, readers, if readers there are. As near as I can tell, there is no way to find out how many people actually read this. So, would you mind signing in, either with your real name or with, as George Kaufman would put it, an assumed name? I'd like to know how many readers I actually have. Thanks.