A glutton grills a big fish
A red snapper comes out of the freezer in time for that much-needed light dinner
I am—as I frequently confess—a glutton.
Last week, my aunt reminded me of my gluttonous 20s, and how I usually ate 18 chapatis at every meal. I protested. I remember eating 12. Plus, I pointed out, her chapatis were paper-thin and light as air. “I remember," she said firmly. “18."
Ah, well, 12 or 18, the point is I showed little restraint while eating. The result was a yo-yo battle with weight, back pain and the occasional bout of more pernicious ill health.
A decade ago, I was hobbled by a pain in my heel. It came after a particularly prolonged spell of eating red meat at almost every meal. So I had my first (and only) health check. The diagnosis was straightforward: too much uric acid, caused by too much red meat. The pain in the heel was a warning sign.
The dietitian—the only one I’ve ever met—asked how many chapatis I ate. Eight, I replied. She was not happy. Cut that to two, she said.
Believe me, I tried. But my constitution is not built for two chapatis. I became cranky, fidgety and weak whenever I tried the two-is-good mantra. After years of trial and error, I have settled on four-six chapatis, depending on activity and exercise. The one big life change came from discarding inactivity. Depending on where I am, I swim or run. As for activity, well, as the full-time father of a hyperactive to-be three-year-old, there is no shortage of that.
At 47, this combination of exercise and fatherhood has given new life to my gluttonous instincts. I eat two breakfasts, as I always have. Only, since I am older and wiser, I make sure one of those breakfasts consists of a big bowl of horrible old papaya. The other, usually shared with my daughter, is eggs, ham or leftover meats and four slices of bread/toast.
I could never give up red meat, so for my other two meals, I have learned to balance meat with the great saviour of my lifetime—fish.
Eating fish comes naturally to us coastal folk, but our curries are heavyish coconut-laden affairs. The other options are not particularly light either: fried fish or bhoozana, fish tossed with grated coconut.
Some years ago, at the height of my uric acid and gluttony issues, I learned the wonders of simple, grilled or baked fish. I learned little twists of spice and flavour. I learned subtle infusions of herbs could release happy, floaty aromas from my oven. I learned there is much more to life than excess.
The only problem with a fish in the oven is that it does not emerge from my deep freeze often enough. This is curious because the marination takes little time, 10 minutes at the most. Perhaps it is the defrosting that puts me off. A big fish can take up to 5 hours to thaw entirely, a lifetime when a toddler is running you ragged. Oh all right, I exaggerate. She really isn’t quite as demanding. It’s entirely my own lack of foresight.
So, at the end of two weeks of excess last month—too much kheema, too much pork and just too many four-legged creatures—I felt particularly full. It didn’t help that the baby had demanded particular attention from dawn to dusk, so I had skipped those runs. Oh yes, we were also moving home, so I guess life and eating schedules were somewhat awry.
It was while moving the contents of my deep freezer that I remembered I had a full red snapper stored in there, nearly 1.5kg. It was hastily driven to our new home, just a kilometre down the road, and while settling in, it became the easiest thing to cook.
I should eat much more fish, and I will. The local fish stall is a 5-minute walk from the new house. From his perch on a busy road, Rabbani Fish Stall offers almost everything the fish-eater desires, from Bombay duck to red snapper.
One cool Bangalore evening, I had the foresight to move the snapper (ordered a week earlier from Rabbani) to the main fridge and out to my kitchen counter the next morning. It still took 5 hours to defrost. I worked a simple marination into it, and that evening the snapper was the main and only course.
There is always a sense of excitement and anticipation when the foil packet is unwrapped, and the first steam dissipates around the dining table. It is a pleasure distinct from the setting down of a meat curry. So it was that evening, as the Halarnkars got to work on the red snapper. My parents, like me, are lovers of red meat and eager to adopt alternatives to their addiction. Straddling both sides of 80, they tucked enthusiastically into the fish. If you thought a 1.5kg fish was too large for three of us, you thought wrong. It was sliced into three large pieces, the head, as always, going to my father and the tail to me.
I awoke the next morning at 5.30am feeling light and energetic, sprang out of my bed and, after a week’s break, returned to road running. It was a good reminder of what a fish can do to condone your gluttony.
Home-grilled red snapper
Serves 3-5
Ingredients
1.5kg whole red snapper (cleaned, with gills, etc. removed)
2 tsp red-chilli powder
2 tsp cumin powder
Juice of 1 lime (or lemon, if available)
1 sprig rosemary
1 tbsp olive oil
Salt to taste
Method
With a knife, make three deep cuts on each side of the fish. Smear it with the spices, lime juice, salt and olive oil. Make sure you pour some of the marinade into the belly, which is where you should tuck the rosemary. Wrap the fish in foil. Bake in a preheated oven at 160 degrees Celsius for an hour. Let stand in the oven for 10-15 minutes. Serve immediately with bread, chapatis or rice.
This is a column on easy, inventive cooking from a male perspective. Samar Halarnkar also writes the fortnightly science column Frontier Mail for Mint.
Also Read | Samar’s previous columns
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