Browned Butter Poached Fish with Mussels

When Charlie was born people often told us “the days are long but the years are short,” but they didn't say anything about the hours, which are the longest of all. Scientifically speaking, the hours between 4:30 and 7pm are the longest, perhaps because two and a half hours between these specific times with a toddler is actually 93 hours long.

Every day is a new challenge for how to fill these 93 hours. Of course there’s dinner, which can last anywhere from 12 minutes to 48 minutes, and bath time, which would last all two and a half hours if Charlie had his way. As the weather turns not-horrible, we've enjoyed the classic pastime “going for a walk,” and if we’re feeling ambitious, we might even attempt to "eat at a restaurant together" as long as we sit down immediately at 5pm and leave by 5:43pm.

Last night, full of optimism, we went for it. We arrived, the only ones in our local Indian spot that we love (Dastaan on Smith Street). It felt like we had bought out the place, a colorful little dining room for just the three of us. A BYO establishment, Max went and got a big, cold, cheap beer from the deli and we drank it from nice wine glasses while we all ate papadam dipped into mint chutney. Charlie was so happy, transfixed by all the lights, giggling, smiling and making intense eye contact with every person who came in to pick up their food. Max and I looked at each other and I said “I’m so glad we did this.” It was all so romantic. It felt like a movie. 

Cut to: The rest of our food arrived, sadly 3 minutes too late as The Great Meltdown on Smith Street had already begun. Charlie forcefully refused to eat the perfectly bite-sized pieces I had cut for him, throwing handfuls of Chicken Saagwala onto the floor* and also my shirt (“the good” button down), knocking a water glass over**, screaming to get out of the high chair. I tried to wrangle him back into the carrier, wordlessly communicating with Max that I was going to take him home and that he should pack up the food and get the check and I’ll meet him at home, but also please finish the beer and eat the rest of your chicken because at least one of us should enjoy this little moment. It was cartoonishly chaotic. It, too, felt like a movie. A slightly less good movie.

*cleaned it up, don’t worry / **cleaned that up, too. 

Once we got to walking home, everything was…fine. If he could speak, he’d nonchalantly tell you things were “all good.” Still needing to feed him dinner, I was grateful to have some leftovers from the previous night's fish. That, with some boiled potato and a few other ingredients, I quickly make “something from nothing”: little fish cakes for my tiny prince, his new favorite food (more on those next week).

The leftovers in question were from a very casual poached fish I made, which ended up being the perfect blank canvas for turning fish leftovers into something, if there were going to be any ("fish leftovers" not historically something I'm excited by). Firm, mild, skinless fillets (I used lemon sole) shallow poached in a brown butter broth made with a little white wine, garlic and lemon, fortified with a handful of mussels and served with big, thick pieces of toast slathered with aioli, for dipping. What started as making my own version of Ukha (Russian fish soup, vaguely inspired by watching I AM LOVE  for the 19th time) I quickly realized I did not want to cook a whole fish that night. The light, brothy fish I ended up with was just right, though more Bouillabaisse than Ukha. Either way, it’s fabulous– and you can find the recipe down below.  

Thank you to MUBI for sponsoring this week's newsletter and reminding us instead of ruining a shirt to make it feel like you’re living a movie, you can just…watch one instead. Stream one of my personal favorites, I AM LOVE, plus tons of other gorgeous films featuring food, cooking and sometimes romance as part of their LET'S EAT! FOOD & FILM collection. To get 30 days free of streaming, head to mubi.com/alisonroman

Browned Butter Poached Fish with Mussels

Serves 4

Not quite a stew or soup, but close-ish to a bouillabaisse, this brown butter poached fish with mussels is perfect as-is but also a good blank canvas for whatever you're feeling moved by. Chili flake to the browned butter? Sliced fennel to sizzle along the lemon and garlic? A small can of crushed tomatoes to the broth? While I like a big thick cut slab of toast smeared with aioli to dunk, this would also be fabulous served over herby rice or buttered linguini.

Ingredients

• 1 lemon, halved crosswise, seeds removed
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
• 1 ½ cups dry white wine
• A few sprigs of thyme, optional
• Kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper
• 1 pound skinless white fish fillets, such as fluke, flounder, sole or cod
• 2 pounds mussels, tiny beards removed
• Dill, parsley or chives, coarsely chopped for serving
• Thick cut bread, for serving
• Aioli, for serving  (recipe here, or on page 45 of Something from Nothing)

Preparation

1. Thinly slice half the lemon and set the other half aside (for juicing later). 

2. Heat butter in a large skillet over medium–high heat. Once the butter melts and starts to foam up, add olive oil to prevent it from burning. Add garlic and lemon slices and season with salt and pepper. Cook, swirling the skillet occasionally until the garlic and lemons are both softened and starting to brown, 3 to 5 minutes. 

3. Add wine and thyme (if using) to the skillet and let it simmer and reduce by about half, 2 to 3 minutes. Add 2 cups of water and season with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer and gently add fish and mussels to the skillet. Season fish with salt and pepper and reduce heat to medium. If you have a lid for the skillet (or a different pot that would fit), place it on top. Otherwise, use something like a sheet tray. 

4. Cook, shaking the skillet occasionally, until the fish is cooked through and the mussels are fully opened, 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from heat, then squeeze some of the lemon over everything. Taste the broth and adjust with more salt, pepper and lemon as you like. 

5. Serve with herbs sprinkled over, next to a big bowl of aioli and plenty of thick, fabulous bread for sopping up the broth.