Smoked Haddock Fish Pie

I love seafood. I'd rather have shrimp, scallops, grouper, mussels or pretty much anything from the sea than a steak or chicken any day of the week, and Judson rolls his eyes endlessly at my need to try every possible type of oyster that's ever on a menu.

But fish pie and fish stew had always sounded a little iffy, even to me. I'm always kind of wary of any seafood dish that just boasts 'fish' in its title instead of a specific type of fish-- how do you know what's in there otherwise?

However, then I moved to Scotland and learned the joys of Cullen Skink. Seriously, cullen skink is the best. It's a warm, hearty smoked fish stew made with haddock, leeks, and cream that's the perfect way to end a chilly autumn day. So I figured if I've opened my mind to fish stew, it was definitely time to give fish pies a try. And with Scottish restaurants being full of fish pies (especially this time of year), it's never been easier to embrace my newfound passion. I mean, seriously: they're so popular here that my favourite British food magazine did an entire feature on them this month.

Over the past few years of living in Scotland, I've learned to love fish pies as much as I love most seafood, so I was excited when I found this recipe to give one a try myself. The beauty of fish pies is that they're generally not made with pastry crust, and instead are layered like a cottage pie. There's a creamy fish filling as the base, topped with seasoned mashed potatoes, and, in the best cases, perfectly crisped breadcrumbs. This recipe delivers on all that and more, and this time of year in Scotland, when the days are longer but not quite summery yet, it's the perfect mix of warm and tasty without being too hearty or heavy.

If you live in the UK, this is the perfect chance to use smoked haddock from your local fishmonger. (If you're stateside, try haddock, cod, or even salmon). Hilariously (to me, anyway), this fish pie calls for '2 teaspoons of onion juice,' which is definitely one of the weirdest ingredients I've run into since starting this project. However, bereft of an onion juicer, I was forced to improvise: I minced two teaspoons of onion so fine it was basically paste and used that instead. (It worked fine, so this is what I've listed below).

If you're like me and wary of fish pies, I'd encourage you to give this a try. With mashed potatoes, smoked fish, buttery crunchy breadcrumbs, and all the flavour you can shake a stick at, what's not to love? Even on a weeknight, this comes together quickly and easily, and if you have leftovers, they're just as tasty the next day!

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This dish is one of my new staples, especially great for an easy weeknight dinner paired with a green salad and a glass of white wine.

one year ago: Hoparound's Hamburger Tacos

And, other previous Cinco de Mayo food: Best Sangria

The recipe:

Fish Pie

the directions:

Grease a pie plate and preheat the oven to 200C/400F.
Make the mashed potatoes: peel and chop the potatoes into fairly uniform-sized chunks.
In a large pot of water, boil the potatoes until fork-tender, drain, and return the potatoes to the pot.
Turn the heat back on very low and mash the potatoes over low heat (this releases the steam and helps dry the potatoes out).
Remove from heat, add ¼ c milk, 1 tbsp butter, salt and pepper to taste, then mash until smooth and set aside.
Meanwhile, place ½ tbsp butter in a small oven-safe dish and pop in the oven to melt.
Once butter has melted, remove from the oven and add breadcrumbs, a pinch of dried dill, and a pinch of garlic powder, stirring to combine.
Place breadcrumbs back in the oven to toast for 5 minutes or until golden and crisp while you make the white sauce.
Make the white sauce by melting the last 1 tbsp butter over medium heat in a small pot.
Blend in flour and a pinch of salt, stirring constantly over low heat until mixture is bubbling and very smooth.
Cook for one minute, then turn off heat and VERY GRADUALLY in a slow and steady stream, add remaining ½ c of the milk.
Return to heat, stir constantly, bring to a boil and allow to thicken.
Once sauce has thickened, gently stir flaked fish, onion and lemon juice into the sauce, keeping the fish in large chunks as much as possible-- you want a nice, thick 'sauce,' not a paste.
Pour white sauce mixture into prepared pie plate, then pipe or spread mashed potatoes over the top.
Sprinkle with parmesan and toasted breadcrumbs, then bake for 15-20 minutes until warmed through.

the ingredients:

2 c potatoes
¾ c milk, divided
2 ½ tbsp butter, divided
Salt & Pepper to taste
½ c bread crumbs
Dried dill
Garlic Powder
1 tbsp flour
2 c flaked cooked fish (smoked haddock is ideal!)
2 tsp minced onion
1 tsp lemon juice
2 tbsp parmesan, grated

Mariner's Shrimp & Mac

Here are some foods I love:

Cheese
Macaroni cheese (this is what macaroni and cheese is called here in the UK and I love it)
Shrimp
Olives

Here are some things I can now say with surety that I do not like in combination:

Cheese
Macaroni Cheese
Shrimp
Olives.

But here we are, and it wouldn’t be The Recipe Box Project if every recipe was a winner. I made this Mariner’s Mac during Lent, because even though we don’t change our diet, I still remember my mom’s stories about eating fish every Friday, so I figured Lent was as good of a time as any to make this dish. But then it was so terrible I’ve just been putting off the inevitable post about it because I just don’t really know what to tell you about this.

To begin with, I should note that, for some reason, macaroni cheese in a box is almost impossible to find in Scotland. Neither of the grocery stores in my neighbourhood carry it, and neither does the one near my office. I couldn’t muster up the energy or desire to ruin a batch of homemade macaroni cheese by turning it into Mariner’s Mac, so I opted for a family-size macaroni cheese from the refrigerator section as my base… but it was from Waitrose—the fanciest grocer in Edinburgh—so it was still a little gourmet.

Also, the recipe doesn’t say what kind of olives should be used, so I went with pitted kalamatas. This was a mistake, though not as big of a mistake as this entire dish turned out to be. The worst part was that it’s impossible to eat around all the nonsense that goes into this dish, because the onions (which are raw for added shudders) are minced so small they’re invisible under the cheese sauce.

I am, however, starting to have a theory that the advent of all the boxed foods that appeared in the 1950s and 1960s are responsible for these weird ‘casseroles’ in a way I didn’t expect. I mean, if you were a housewife in the 1950s, and you had only ever tasted food made from scratch, wouldn't the taste of boxed macaroni just disgust you (not to mention feeling absolutely too easy-- like calling for a takeaway)? So how do you fix the taste of processed foods as a home cook (and how do you convince housewives to buy your product, if you're a brand like Kraft)?

You make up inane recipes to prove how 'versatile' your products are, and if you're a cook, you 'dress up' your easy boxed meals to make them seem more costly, unique, time-consuming, and fancy. At least, that's how I justify the existence of this recipe, and if you have a better idea, than I'm all ears.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. I feel I should at least deign to give this recipe a single spoon, since Judson and I managed to eat the shrimp and macaroni cheese and leave behind the majority of the olives and other random ingredients. But I really like both shrimp and macaroni, and it was still an unholy effort to get through an entire bowlful of this recipe. I don't recommend it-- at all.

one year ago: Easter Bread

The recipe:

Mariner's Shrimp & Mac

the directions:

Prepare macaroni as directed on package.
Stir in shrimp, sour cream, olives, pimento, and onion.
Stir well and reheat throughout before serving. 

the ingredients:

1 box (or prepared refrigerated version) macaroni cheese
1 c shrimp, cooked
¾ c sour cream
¼ c olives, pitted and sliced
2 tbsp sweet red pepper or pimento, chopped
1 tbsp onion, chopped finely

'Clam' Chowder, or, A Disaster Story

In the interest of making all the recipes in the box, I often stumble across dumb ones that were culled from magazines, newspapers, or ads. This is one of those recipes-- it's really just 'make a can of soup, and serve with a pat of butter.' But clam chowder is hard-ish to find here in Scotland, and I've always wanted to try making it myself.

So I figured one night for dinner last week that we'd give it a try. I once watched my mother-in-law made clam chowder and it seemed pretty easy, so I thought Judson and I could surely handle it, with the help of some internet resources for inspiration.

Here is something I didn't count on: the fishmonger, when I dropped by to buy fresh clams, told me he had no clams because, and I quote, 'the water around Scotland doesn't get cold enough for clams.'

I wish I had an image of the deadpan face I gave him when he said that because I really thought he was joking and if you don't understand why, you've clearly never been to a Scottish beach (where the water never gets above 50F/10C). But evidently it's true, and the balmy waters of Scotland are not home to many clams. Armed with this knowledge, I headed to Tesco where I planned to buy jarred clams, which I assumed would work just as well. But when I got to Tesco, I could only find jarred cockles. 'That's fine,' I thought to myself. 'We'll just have cockle chowder! I'll invent this new dish and before you know it, people the world over will be ordering it in restaurants near and far! How different could a cockle possibly taste from a clam?'

Very is the answer to that question... if the cockles happen to be pickled.

To redeem myself for the horrors of this recipe, here's a picture of the new hand-carved white pine spoon I bought to scoop salt with.

I assumed naively that the cockles would be brined in saltwater, but it turned out they were pickled in some kind of vinegar (the internet recommends making pickled cockles in malt vinegar, so maybe that's what it was?). Not only did they taste exclusively of pickle, but they definitively did not match the creamy potato chowder I had prepared for them.

Don't get me wrong, we proceeded anyway (partly because we had no other dinner food in the house; partly because I felt that I couldn't give up). I hoped some of the pickle flavour would soak out in the soup and be absorbed by the potatoes, but it did not. As an additional slap in the face, it turns out that cockles are just a type of saltwater clam (not the coquinas I thought they were). We still haven't determined what pickled cockles are supposed to be used for, and so far all of my Googling has produced only recipes for making your own pickled cockles, no recipes for things to put them into.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. Might I go ahead and recommend that you don't make this soup? However, if you're so inclined, next time you make an actual clam chowder, top each serving with a wee pat of butter. It makes the soup extra creamy and flavourful and even more perfect for sopping up the last drops with a crusty baguette.

The recipe:

Pickled Cockle Chowder

the directions:

Rinse the cockles well in cold water.
Prepare the clam chowder as directed, except swap pickled cockles for clams.
Serve with a pat of butter on each bowl, and don't expect anyone to finish ask for seconds.

the ingredients:

Your favourite clam chowder recipe
2 jars of pickled cockles