Drool over this fried fish

Come September, and you will find a joyful gleam in some fish-loving eyes. I am referring to people who can’t have enough of their rohu or pomfret but feel compelled to stay off fish in the months that don’t have an ‘r’ in their names — that is, from May to August. This is because they firmly believe that as some fish spawn during these months, it should be left alone during this season. Others hold that the fish may not be very fresh, as the seas are rough in the rainy months, making it difficult for fisherfolks to navigate the turbulent waters for the day’s catch. Whatever the reason, there is quite a lot of celebration when September knocks at our doors with a creel of fish. Of course, some fish also spawn in September, but let’s not carp.

Ingredients

Pomfret (about 700g) 1 large

Chilli powder 2 tsp

Black pepper powder 2 tsp

Turmeric powder ½ tsp

Salt To taste

Juice One lemon

Oil As required

Sliced onions For garnish

Curry leaves A fistful

Lemon A few slices

Method

•  Clean the fish well. Make gashes with a sharp knife on its two sides. Mix all the powdered masalas, salt and lemon juice, with a bit of water. The consistency should be such that the masala paste sticks to the fish.
•  Stuff the slits with some of the masala and coat the rest evenly on its two sides. Keep aside for about 40 minutes.
•  In a pan, heat oil. Add curry leaves for flavour, and then shallow fry the fish on medium flame. Brown both sides well. When done, squeeze the lemon slices over the fish. Serve with

  onion slices and a lemon wedge.

Though I am not fussy about fish-friendly or unfriendly months, we marked the imminent advent of September recently with a hillock of fried fish. This is quite a favourite among friends and relatives, and we use fillets of sole, surmai or singhara for this dish. The fillets are cleaned and then marinated with vinegar, onion juice, garlic-ginger paste and salt and pepper. Then, each piece is dipped in a bowl of beaten egg, coated with panko crumbs (Japanese breadcrumbs made from white bread) and fried.

The fried fish was a great success, and it got me thinking about the various kinds of fried fish that we have across the country. Everyone knows of the Amritsari fish, which is a fish fillet fried after being coated with a batter of besan, flavoured with ajwain, chilli and other spices.

You can have different kinds of batter for fried fish. A beer-coating gives the fillet a real crunch. And fish orly gets its crispiness and appetising appearance from a mix of baking powder, wheat flour, cornflour and egg. Delhi has a great many famous vendors of fried fish. In west Delhi, you know you are somewhere near a magician named Paramjeet when you see a jumble of cars parked haphazardly, and get the heady aroma of fried fish. Then, there is a legend called Ganesh, who takes fried fish out of a kadahi of hot oil with his bare hands. I remember the time we used to buy a kilo of fried fish for ~20 from Rajinder Da Dhaba, which operated from a tent in south Delhi. Now, it is a sprawling restaurant, fondly called RDD by its clients.

Elsewhere, you get fish fry, which is a slim fillet, marinated with masalas, coated with crumbs and deep fried. In South Indian homes and restaurants, you will find fried mackerel. I still drool over the mackerel that I ate at a Wellington restaurant at Coonoor, Tamil Nadu, which oozed with the aroma of spices. The fish had been cleaned, and then marinated with ginger, garlic, turmeric powder, chilli powder, salt and vinegar. It had then been sautéed. I love Goa’s rawa fried fish, too — smeared with the regular masalas and vinegar, and then coated with semolina and rice flour.

I think fried fish is so very drool-worthy because of the great combination of its crisp casing and the flaky piece encased within. Eastern India’s maach bhaja is like that. Fat steaks are coated with turmeric, red chillies and salt, and then fried in hot mustard oil, presenting a delicious union of crunchiness and softness. It is often served with steamed, ghee-smeared rice or khichdi. Small fish have their fans, too. A tiny fish called maurala is coated with the usual masalas, and then fried. It is so crisp that people can chew the bones.

Environmentalists believe that we should be responsible about the fish we eat. We need to go easy on fish species during their breeding period, or early life. But come September, and the band can start playing!