Tunisian Salmon with Spicy Green Sauce

Inexplicably, I woke up Friday morning with a serious craving for spicy green sauce. Of what variety? No clue. What would go in this sauce? Again, couldn't tell you. But I wanted a sauce, thick and green, spicy and fresh, to eat with salmon. And since there's only one cook in this house (D being capable of excellent cleaning and eating but really no cooking whatsoever, seriously), my craving was my command.

I typed "spicy green sauce" into Google, and, you know, 16 MILLION results came back. So this spicy green sauce that I totally made up? It's a real thing. 16 million real things, to be precise.

And then, because I'm terribly indecisive, I made three spicy green sauces. Hey - a craving is a craving, non?

9 chilies and two bunches of cilantro later, I found two versions that I really like. One I'll save for another time; the other is a perfect accompaniment to this simply roasted salmon.

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All the recipes I found varied on a basic theme: green chilies, cilantro and occasionally some parsley, garlic and/or onion, lemons or limes, and plenty of olive oil. If you were feeling creative, you could probably riff on the formula and create a sauce of your own.

The one I made for the salmon was inspired by a Tunisian sauce called chermoula. The recipe came from David Tanis, who wrote one of the loveliest cookbooks on my shelf: A Platter of Figs. Its secret ingredient is preserved lemon, which imparts a floral note and plenty of brininess. We loved it on the salmon.

By the way, about that salmon: After many years of relying on wet, soggy marinades to do my flavoring, I've recently come around to the benefits -- and there are so many! -- of dry rub. First, who wants wet when you're dealing with raw chicken or a big slab of fish? It sounds like it'll get everywhere, and it does. Plus, even if you manage to keep the marinade contained, you're still left with a few cups of good liquid that you probably will just pour down the drain. Second, my sense is that marinades don't get much further than skin deep unless you leave them to do their work for several days, and by then -- at least according to Harold McGee -- you've actually altered the structure of the protein, which sounds scary and also not delicious.

I'm not just a marinade naysayer, friends. I actually love dry rubs and I've been using them in all sorts of recipes lately. They're easy to make and remarkably economical. And since you apply the spices directly to the protein, you get a big hit of flavor from a relatively small volume of seasoning. If you play your cards correctly, as with this salmon, you get a nice, crunchy crust of seasoning on the outside of the fish, which really pushes things over the top. I used Tanis' mixture of coriander, cumin, caraway, and cayenne; the caraway is so unexpected and wonderful that I made a second batch of the spice rub (leaving the spices whole to preserve their flavor), and tucked it away for later use.

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The small bit of extra spice rub leftover from the salmon found its way onto eggplant, which I sliced, brushed with olive oil, and roasted in a 400-degree oven for 35 minutes until tender.  The next day, I shmeared two slices of my sourdough bread with some of the leftover chermoula, piled on the spice-rubbed eggplant and some roasted cauliflower, and topped the vegetables with some feta cheese. A few minutes on the cast iron pan weighed down with the tea kettle (so MacGyver, right?), and we had ourselves a killer panino. If I'd had any leftover salmon, I'd have added it to the sandwich in lieu of feta. The chermoula and spice rub are versatile components that I can see using in so many different ways. Both will definitely become part of the regular lunch rotation.

NDP Turns Six! Another year has passed, and now Not Derby Pie is six. Starting first grade - that's so old! Some of you have been around since the wee beginning: thank you. To newer friends, welcome. Thanks for reading, commenting, and sharing tips. I love hearing about what's in your kitchen, and I hope you'll continue to share all that's delicious. In honor of the birthday, I'm going to start posting links to recipes I made on or near the day of each post in each of the five previous years of NDP. The bottom line? Hopefully we'll all come away from each post with even more ideas for food to get us through the week. Cheers, and happy cooking. xo -R

One year ago:Fresh Salmon Cakes with Ginger and LimeTwo years ago:Easy Eggplant CurryThree years ago:All Sorts of PicklesFour years ago:Crostini with Radish and FavasFive years ago:Cherry Almond Tea CakesSix years ago:Île flottante, still among the most elegant desserts I've ever made

Tunisian Salmon with Spicy Green SauceRub and Sauce adapted from David Tanis'  recipe in the New York TimesServes 4-6

Use pre-ground spices if needed; you'll wind up with slightly more spice rub, but no biggie.

For the salmon: 2-lb. side of wild salmon 1/2 teaspoon coriander seed 1/2 teaspoon cumin seed 1/2 teaspoon caraway seed 1/4 teaspoon cayenne 1 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon olive oil

For the sauce:1 preserved lemon (available at Middle Eastern groceries) or the grated zest of 1 lemon Salt to taste 1 garlic clove, smashed 2 serrano or jalapeño chiles, de-seeded (use less for a milder sauce) 1 cup cilantro leaves and tender stems3 scallions, chopped 1/3 cup olive oil, more to taste

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

In a spice grinder or a mortar, grind the coriander, cumin, caraway, and cayenne to make a mostly-fine spice rub. Don't fret if little bits of whole spices remain.

Place the salmon skin-side down on a large baking sheet and sprinkle all over with salt. Then sprinkle the spice rub over the top of the fish, and use your finger tips to distribute the rub all over the fish. Don't be shy.

Drizzle the fish with the olive oil, and place in the oven for 10-12 minutes. (If your salmon is particularly thick, which mine was not, you may need to leave the fish in a bit longer. Err on the side of undercooking rather than overcooking.)

While the fish cooks, make the sauce: combine all ingredients except olive oil in a blender. With the motor running, drizzle in the olive oil until everything emulsifies into a mostly-smooth sauce. Salt to taste. Transfer to a container and store in the fridge until ready to use.

Either serve the salmon immediately, or refrigerate until thoroughly chilled (about 2 hours) and serve cold.

Aromatic Burmese Fish Stew

As promised, here's the companion dish to the Burmese black eyed peas I made last week.

Can we have an honest moment about fish stew? It's usually a pain in the butt. Many recipes call for fish stock; they require you to brown the fish before stewing it, which makes a mess and smells up the house; and at the end of the day, after painstakingly browning lots of little pieces of fish, perhaps some onion and other vegetables, you end up with a big pile of nondescript food that doesn't always seem worth the effort.

Not this stew. This one's different.

Naomi Duguid is the genius behind this recipe. It comes from her new book, Burma, and it fed a dinner party of 8 people Friday night, plus leftovers for both of us the next day.

Unlike its more fussy compatriots, this fish stew contains only fish, tomatoes, spices, and water. If you have a food processor or spice grinder, you're good to go. You just blend a bunch of spices into a paste, add them to water to make a broth, and cook fish and tomatoes in that broth for scarcely 10 minutes. Then, you eat.

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Because I was serving this at a dinner party, I wanted the cooking time to be more flexible. After bringing the broth to a boil, I turned the heat so low you could barely see the flame. Then I added the fish. The fish basically poached in a hot water bath, taking its merry time while we schmoozed and sipped wine. By the time we got to the table, about an hour after I added the fish, it had cooked perfectly. It was flaky and firm, but not at all tough. The tomatoes had melted into the broth. Over white rice, topped with some herbs, it was just perfect.

If you serve this for a more casual dinner, you might consider skipping the sides entirely and just serving the stew in bowls over rice, topped with herbs or even a dollop of yogurt. It's a pretty brothy stew; you'd be missing out if you couldn't slurp it all up. Because we served it on plates with a bunch of sides, I ladled out a couple spoonfuls of the broth and mixed them with 2 tablespoons of rice flour, then poured that makeshift slurry back into the stew. The slurry thickened the broth just a bit, giving it a texture somewhere between broth and gravy. Still very liquidy, but with enough body to not be wholly out of place on a dinner plate.

I'll give the Burmese food a rest for a while, but I'm not promising I won't be back with more of it at some point. I can hardly help myself.

Aromatic Burmese Fish StewAdapted from Naomi Duguid's new book, Burma

serves 6

Notes: Ideally, you'll make the spice paste in a food processor. That's certainly easiest. However, if you don't have a processor, you can make it in batches in a spice grinder. Duguid also says you can use a mortar and pestle, which I assume is traditional, but it'll take you forever, and you'll wind up with a somewhat coarse paste. I'm not so into the texture of lemongrass, but if you are, don't let me stop you from doing things the old-fashioned way.

I've included instructions for thickening the broth below, but that's optional. If you're serving the stew in bowls, you definitely don't need to do it. Just be sure to serve it with both forks and spoons.

If you can find whole tumeric root, definitely use it here - it has a bright, floral flavor that really adds something to the stew. That said, Duguid offers ground tumeric as an acceptable substitute.

If you happen to have Burmese crumbled toasted soybean disks, you need two tablespoons for this recipe. For the rest of us, I've offered Duguid's recommended substitutions below.

Lastly, because you'll be dumping all the herbs and spices in a food processor anyway, no need to be precise in your cutting. Just chop everything up and dump it in the processor bowl. In a pinch, you probably can get away without chopping the garlic or shallots.

1/4 cup chopped lemongrass (1 stalk yields almost exactly this much) 1 2-inch knob of tumeric root, chopped; or substitute 1 tablespoon ground tumeric 2 tablespoons kosher salt 4-5 medium shallots, sliced (about 1/2 cup) 5-6 cloves garlic, sliced (about 1/4 cup) 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro stems (Duguid calls for roots but I couldn't find them) 1-4 green cayenne or other green chiles, sliced (Duguid calls for about 1/2 cup, but I'm warning you, that is a lot of chiles. I used only 2 serrano chiles and the stew was plenty spicy for me.)

8 cups water 2 medium tomatoes, cut into wedges 2 teaspoons miso (preferably brown but any works) 3 pounds skinned, filleted mild but thick white fish, such as halibut, cod, or hake; cut into 2-inch pieces 2 scallions, minced 2 cups loosely backed Thai basil and/or cilantro leaves 2 tablespoons rice flour, optional

Combine lemongrass, tumeric, shallots, garlic, ginger, coriander, 1 chile, and 1 tablespoon salt in the bowl of a food processor and blend until smooth. Add a couple tablespoons of water if necessary, and scrape down the sides occasionally.

Meanwhile, bring the water to a boil in a large pot or casserole. Add the spice paste, the remaining tablespoon of salt, and the tomatoes. When the water returns to a boil, boil hard for 10 minutes.

Turn the heat to medium-low. Scoop out a little broth into a small bowl and dissolve the miso in the broth, then add back to the pot. Add the fish, cover, and simmer for about 10 minutes, until the fish is cooked through. Add most of scallions and herbs, stir to combine, and remove the stew from the heat.

Serve over white or brown rice, with the remaining herbs and scallions.

* If you want to thicken the stew, follow the instructions for the miso: scoop out some broth, stir the rice flour into the broth until smooth, then pour the slurry back into the broth and stir to combine.

Snapper with Harissa and Rose

Jerusalem is a city of enclaves. There are Yemenites and Iranians and Bukharians, Russians and Syrians and Brazilians, Ethiopians and Venezuelans and Jordanians, Libyans and Italians, French and Americans. Each group has its own neighborhoods, its own language, its own culture, its own food. And now, there's finally a book cataloguing everything.

Yotam Ottolenghi was raised in mostly-Jewish western Jerusalem. His partner, Sami Tamimi, was raised in Muslim east Jerusalem. They now live in London, where they run restaurants - but both still think of Jerusalem as their home. The two have collaborated on a new cookbook called Jerusalem, which they claim is a self-indulgent nostalgia trip. I've been leafing through this book before bed for a couple weeks now, and I couldn't be happier to be along for the ride.

harissa snapper ingredients

If you've cooked from Plenty, you'll instantly recognize the style of recipes in Jerusalem. Lots of fresh vegetables, plenty of legumes, olive oil in every pan, generous use of eggs and yogurt. This book isn't vegetarian, but I'd say probably 85% of the recipes are. And while in Jerusalem there are 200 ways to eat meat, it's the fruit and vegetables that I (and clearly they) miss the most. They are in such abundance there that you can't not use them. You can't not top every salad with a handful of fresh herbs, chop up an Israeli salad to go with your meal, cut open as perfect a tomato as you'll find outside of Italy. This book is a celebration of all that makes Jerusalem's food life quirky and intimate and conflicted and wonderful. I can't stop reading it; and while I've only just begun to cook from it, I can tell I'll be doing that regularly from now on, too.

If you do have the book, here are a couple of recipes to make now. Make the roasted cauliflower and hazelnut salad. It looks simple, but the cinnamon and roasted hazelnuts make the cauliflower somehow more romantic. If you still have access to good tomatoes, make Na'ama's fattoush. It's not the fattoush I ate in Jerusalem, but I think that's the point. Make the kubbeh hamousta, which still is my favorite food in Jerusalem (especially if you eat it at Morduch). And then, if you want to be totally and completely wowed, suspend judgement and make this: pan-fried snapper with spicy harissa and rose.

I'm not a huge fan of rose water. I usually find the flavor too strong and perfume-y. But for some reason, this recipe spoke to me. The fish and the spicy harissa lasso the rose water into subtle submission. It lends scent and sophistication to the dish without overpowering it. The result is a line-up of firm fillets, crowned with vivid red sauce that's as spicy as you want it to be, but also sweet from currants and soft onions. And that rose water - I was as surprised as you probably are. D, too. This isn't the kind of recipe I'd put into the regular rotation, but I'm officially looking for an occasion to make it again.

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And krantz cakes. And Muttabaq. And burnt eggplant with garlic, lemon, and pomegranate seeds.

You know where to find me.

Snapper with Harissa and RoseAdapted fromJerusalem, by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi

The book calls for sea bass, but sustainable sea bass isn't available where we live, so I used snapper. Make things easy by asking your fishmonger to remove the pin bones and cut the fish into 1/4-pound fillets.

Ottolenghi calls for 1/2 cup of currants, but this makes the sauce a bit too sweet. I cut the amount to 1/4 cup and was happier. He also says the cilantro is optional; I disagree. It adds an important fresh note to the finished dish.

If you're feeling fancy, you can buy edible rose petals, which Ottolenghi and Tamimi use in the book and which look gorgeous. I was feeling practical and somewhat harried; I skipped them.

2 tablespoons harissa 1 teaspoon ground cumin Four 1/4-pound fillets of any firm, fleshy white fish, skinned and with pin bones removed All-purpose flour, for dusting 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 large onion, diced 6 tablespoons red wine vinegar 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1 cup water 1 1/2 tablespoons honey 1 tablespoon rose water 1/4 cup currants 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro 2 teaspoons edible rose petals (optional) salt and pepper

Prep the fish:: Mix 1 tablespoon of harissa, the cumin, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt together and rub all over the fish. Set aside.

Heat the olive oil in a wide frying pan (preferably nonstick or castiron) over medium heat. Dust fillets with flour and shake off excess. Gently lay fillets in the pan and fry for two minutes on each side. If you're concerned about overcrowding the pan, cook the fish in batches. Remove cooked fish to a plate, leaving the oil in the pan.

Make the sauce: Add the onions and cook for about 8 minutes, stirring periodically, until soft and golden but not browned. Add the remaining harissa, vinegar, cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and several grinds of black pepper. Pour in the water, stir to combine, lower the heat, and cook for 10 minutes, until sauce has thickened considerably.

Add the currants, rose water, and honey. Simmer for a couple more minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary, then return the fish back to the pan, spooning some of the sauce overtop. Leave the fish to heat up in the sauce for about three minutes, adding a tablespoon or two of water if the sauce is too thick. Remove from heat, sprinkle with cilantro, and serve immediately with plain rice or crusty bread.

Fresh Salmon Cakes with Ginger and Lime

We've been having some of the most beautiful days in DC these past couple of weeks. The air is crisp but not yet cool, and the sun seems happy to shine all day long. It looks like summer from my office window, but it's starting to feel like fall.

The weather's confused my compass a bit in the kitchen. tomatoes and -- believe it or not -- peaches are still at the market for the taking, but apples cropped up early this year, and now they're everywhere. Most confusing of all, as I passed through the lower part of the Dupont market a few Sundays ago, I saw unlikeliest of early fall produce: fresh ginger.

Ginger typically doesn't come into season until mid-October, but there it was, at the end of September, and it was gorgeous. I'd used up my stash from last fall months ago and craved more ever since. Was I going to hold back? No, no I wasn't.

The first thing I do with market ginger is make ginger ice cream. It's been that way every year. Fortunately, I bought enough to have extra after the ice cream was frozen and tucked away. So I flipped to a recipe I'd tabbed back when I breezed my way through The New York Times Essential Cookbook, for fresh salmon and lime cakes.

Rid the image of canned salmon and/or disgusting amounts of mayonnaise from your mind. Shudder; sigh. These are no ordinary salmon cakes. They contain fresh, diced salmon; very little binder; and --surprise! -- wasabi, ginger, and kaffir lime leaves. Dipping sauce: lime juice, soy sauce, brown sugar. No mayo whatsoever.

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These aren't burgers; they're cakes. Don't sandwich them inside a bun (unless it's one of those Asian steamed buns, which actually might be great with a shmear of hoisin and sriracha...whoa, what an idea!) But really, these don't belong in a kaiser roll. They belong on a plate, with a fork and knife -- the way the French might eat burgers, come to think of it.

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Dicing the salmon will be time-intensive. If you have a meat grinder, lucky you. If you're in a rush, you can cut the salmon into large pieces, put them into a food processor, and pulse a few times very quickly until salmon is coarsely chopped. After that, the work is minimal. You can have dinner on the table in 15 minutes flat. Now that fall's arrived -- with school underway, jobs busy as ever, and all of those fall Jewish holidays here -- there's not much else I can ask for.

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Fresh Salmon Cakes with Ginger and LimeFrom The New York Times Essential Cookbook Recipe says it serves 4-6, but I'd say it's more like 2-3; I doubled recipe and served 4 with not too many leftover

*Note: kaffir lime leaves aren't the easiest to find. If we're being honest, I had to try 3 stores before finally getting some. Your best bet is an Asian grocer. That said, you definitely can make these with lime zest. Fret not.

One 1-pound skinless salmon fillet 1 large egg white, lightly beaten 3 tablespoons rice flour 2 kaffir lime leaves, chopped, or zest of one lime 1 tablespoon minced or grated fresh ginger 1 teaspoon wasabi paste 3 tablespoons chopped chervil or flat-leaf parsley

1/4 cup fresh lime juice (from about 2 limes) 1/4 cup soy sauce 2 tablespoons brown sugar

Oil for frying (something neutral, like corn, canola, or vegetable)

Run two fingers along the top of the salmon to check for any pin bones. They run the length of the flesh, right along the middle. To pull them out, either use tweezers or a small piece of paper towel between your fingers (which mitigates the slipperiness of the fish). Pull in the direcfaces of the bone; they should slide out.

Dice the salmon into 1/4-inch dice. In a medium bowl, combine salmon, egg white, rice flour, lime leaves, ginger, wasabi paste, and chervil or parsley. Stir until everything is evenly mixed.

In a small bowl, combine lime juice, soy sauce, and brown sugar. Set aside.

Set a piece of plastic wrap or parchment paper on a baking sheet. Scoop 2-tablespoon portions of the salmon mixture into your palms, roll into a ball, flatten into a cake, and set on the baking sheet. Continue until all salmon has been used.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Put a baking sheet into the oven.

Heat 1/2 an inch of oil in a nonstick or castiron pan. When oil shimmers, add cakes, leaving at least 1 inch between them. Cook cakes for about 45 seconds on each side; do not overcook. When cakes have finished cooking, transfer them to the oven to stay warm while you cook the rest of the cakes.

Serve immediately, with lime dipping sauce on the side.

(If you'd like to make these in advance, don't preheat the oven; just transfer the cooked cakes to a plate, refrigerate, and warm through in a 200-degree oven before serving.)