Firecracker Salmon

Salmon, quinoa, and crusted snow peas.

Have you ever cooked a meal for someone and thought, “Look at that ungrateful lard ass; just shoveling my culinary masterpiece down his throat like coal into a boiler… I deserve better than this.”  You probably think every morsel of your craft should be savored, considered, and worshipped.  But what if pausing the shoveling leads to someone savoring, considering… then spitting your masterpiece out?  Are you really prepared for the feedback?  I mean, you should never ask questions you don’t really want to know the answer to.

This isn’t going to be one of those pretentious, worshipping lemonade inspired cupcakes on a sunny summer day food blogs.  This is going to be a merciless deconstruction of my girlfriend’s cooking.  Before you take up arms in her defense, she asked for it, and I’m sure she take offense at your assumption that she needs your protection.  If anything, you should probably be concerned for my well-being.  I wholly expect my life to end six months from now, choking on a dry piece of salmonella-ridden, three week old chicken. 

Anyway, if you’re interested in this week’s recipe, check out the side bar.  I hope the quick rating system helps you out as well.  Any major changes that we make to the original recipe will be noted to be fair to the chef; artistic license carries a far lighter penalty than failing to execute the simple, color-by-numbers style recipes she operates from.  For example, this week we substituted out the god-awful Sriracha hot sauce (also known as “smoky ketchup”) for the ridiculously spicy and delicious Stubbs Habanero Pepper Wing Sauce.  Had the hot sauce been terrible, I could hardly fault her for trying.  Of course, had she brought Sriracha into my apartment I most definitely would have had to kick her out.  Cooking for someone you care about definitely carries risk. 

Also, we won’t be linking to those blowhard, pretentious food blogs we rip the recipes from; I would never subject you to such a terrible form of torture and I’m firmly against enabling those narcissists with any additional attention.  If you’re looking for awesome recipes, the girlfriend pulls the majority of them from Pinterest.

At any rate, let’s get into this week’s recipe:  Firecracker Salmon.

It’s been well over a year since I’ve had any form of fish (sushi) and I can’t even guess at how long it’s been since I’ve had some form of fish made inside my own abode.  Bad fish in a restaurant?  You probably go home sick.  Bad fish in the home?  You stay home sick and your apartment smells like rotting pond fruit for a few weeks.  When you tell someone, “Sure, you can cook some fresh salmon fillets in my kitchen.”  You’re really saying “I trust you not to ruin my living space.”  And I did trust her… Mostly.  I mean, I was definitely preparing myself for the worst.

And speaking of preparing, let me warn you about some key components in the preparation of this dish.  When I told the girlfriend that I was giving this dish very poor marks in the “Prep Difficulty” column, she immediately objected, “It wasn’t that difficult!”  Totally.  That steady stream of profanity I heard from the kitchen as she nearly grated her flesh on the microplane while mincing ginger and garlic certainly made the endeavor seem simple.  So, my first piece of advice if you attempt to recreate this recipe?  Buy your minceables pre-minced, or accept that there may be some blood lost in the kitchen. 

Graphics by Excel....

Of course, that wasn’t the only struggle.  We didn’t buy our fresh fillets skinless, and apparently that means it’s also not boneless.  I’ve pulled my fair share of bass and crappie out of our regions ponds and lakes, but I was completely unaware of something called pin bones.  But as she went to rub the marinade into the fish, she made the shocking discovery that those tiny stabbers were still residing firmly in the meat.  So, if you’re a completely uncultured barbarian such as myself, be prepared to sterilize and sacrifice your only tweezers to the cause of the kitchen, because pulling pin bones out by hand is NOT an option.  If it weren’t for the fact that I’m pretty confident pre-minced garlic and deboned salmon exist, this dish would score a solid 0 in the “Prep Difficulty” category and further tank the score.

Pin bones... See you at the
crossroads, Tweezers.

The cost wasn’t too terrible, but fresh salmon fillets from Sprouts were a bit pricey in comparison to some of the other options we could have chosen.  Overall our shopping trip was around $50, including side dishes and a few gummy bears to snack on while she prepped (Sprouts gummy bears, people… might be the best thing you ever put in your mouth).  We also over-purchased on the salmon, and had enough left to feed at least one other person.  I may have cheated and bumped the cost up an extra level after actually putting the dish in my mouth.

So, so good.

Before we address the flavor, I do want to note the only points I deducted for chef’s execution.  It’s always funny to be sitting in the other room and hear someone in the kitchen go “uhhh… oh no.” As noted, we subbed out the shitty ketchup (Sriracha) for some real hot sauce, but the recipe only called for a tablespoon of hot sauce.  I looked up from the shit show that is the 2017 Kansas City Royals to see the chef scooping hot sauce out of the bowl, as she added nearly a full cup before she realized that she had severely over sauced the mixture.  Ultimately, we rode it out and used about three times the amount of hot sauce as recommended.  We’re not afraid of spicy, as you’ll likely see again in the future.  Other than this minor slip up, the recipe was followed closely, and the fish was marinated for just short of 24 hours before baking.

The plating of the dish was pretty solid.  We garnished the fish with green onions as recommended, and served it with a side of red-pepper quinoa (straight from the box) and panko and Parmesan crusted snow peas; and I won’t lie the whole thing looked delicious.  I also had a glass of petite sirah, which may have been a poor choice.  I do love wine, but I’m no sommelier.  I do know that the petite sirah overpowered the fish quite a bit. 

Looking good here...

At this point, the plate was in front of me, and it was time for the moment of truth.  A little further in front of me was the chef who was eagerly awaiting my honest feedback; but also knows where I live so I was preparing myself to temper any negative reaction that might leap from my tongue.  We took the first bite together and savored it, considered it… and simultaneously came to the same conclusion.  “Meh.”  The fish had some spice but not overwhelmingly so.  Past that, the only flavor it had was fishy.  It wasn’t bad, but it was mysteriously lacking in flavor.  The fish itself was perfectly cooked and flaky, but ultimately we both settled on the same approach to eating it; breaking out chunks and mixing it into the quinoa or snow peas and eating them combined.  Which made sense, because the snow peas were ridiculously delicious. 

Ultimately, the dish scores a total of 3.2 out of 5 on my rating scale, and is only saved by the side dishes and the plating.  I really wouldn’t recommend anyone go out of their way to recreate the recipe unless you just love the taste of salmon and want to add a bit of a kick (or if you have piles of minced ginger lying around and don’t know what to do with it).  It’ll probably be quite a while before we revisit fish in my apartment, and I suspect we’ll approach it in a more traditional, citrus-flavored manner when we do.  But I’m happy we gave the recipe a shot and overall I enjoyed the meal, even if the main dish scores a unanimous “meh.”