day seven: validation from a dead bass

January 27, 2009

as Chef Pierre had predicted, day seven was considerably uglier than the poultry massacre of day six. we filleted round and flat fish, much to the dismay of my classmate adrienne, who confessed a fear of anything in the kitchen with eyes. round fish, like bass or snapper, have eyes on either sides of their heads and swim in a vertical position. they produce two fillets.

flat fish, like carp and flounder, have both eyes on top of their heads (to look at adrienne) and swim horizontally. they produce four fillets: two along the backbone from the top, and two from their whitish undersides.

we would use the bones and fins to make a fish stock, along with fresh thyme and a finely diced mirepoix of celery and onion (mushroom trimmings are allowed, too). the dice is small for fish stock since fish bones take the least amount of time to cook, when compared to poultry or meat bones.

we gathered around the demonstration table as Chef began pointing out the indications that his bass was indeed fresh. “the eyes are clear, and the gills are a nice red color,” he said, running his fingers over the gills like a stack of playing cards. “it shouldn’t smell fishy,” he said. “if it smells fishy, the store doesn’t change the ice every day.” he flopped his bass onto the cutting board lengthwise and pulled out his boning knife, which students typically use for poultry. “i am comfortable using this one, but you should use the fillet knives,” he said, holding up both to show the difference. the fillet knife has a longer, flexible blade that guides cuts right along the bone. (i later overheard Chef Bryan tell pete he prefers to use his chef’s knife for dressing and filleting fish–’you should use what’s comfortable for you once you learn the technique,’ he said.)

Chef Pierre removed the tail, gills and fins with kitchen shears and cut just behind the gills down to the bone without completely removing the head. a few gasps escaped from the onlooking students as he rinsed some blood off the now disjointed fish. “oh come on guys–you are not pastry students! this is nothing,” he said. we hung our heads. apparently, squeamishness could be expected from baking and pâtisserie students, but was not tolerated in the culinary kitchen. Chef then set to work filleting, or removing the two sides of the fish intact.

he made a neat slice along the dorsel toward the tail. “make sure the flat part of the blade goes right along the bone,” he said. he slowly peeled back the flesh like a curtain to reveal the skeleton. i couldn’t believe how little flesh was left behind. he held out the intact side of bass to slice away the remaining skin that clung to the bones and plunked the finished fillet down on the cutting board.

after removing the other side, Chef said we would have to remove the skin and few little bones from the fillets before showing them to him–”the customer will be unhappy if he finds bones!” he said.

he turned the fillet so the back end (closest to the tail) was on his left. holding the end piece steady, he made a cut almost perpendicular to the board through the flesh down to the skin. with the blade pointing to the right, he began moving the blade forward and back through the flesh toward the front of the fillet, keeping the knife just parallel to the board without touching it. “don’t push; let the knife do the work! see? i am not pushing down because then it won’t slice properly,” he said. all the while, he moved the shiny strip of skin, which he held in his left hand, back and forth opposite the motion of the knife–the image of Chef snaking the skin around on the board reminded me of a handkerchief waving to a passing train.

he held up the paper-thin, shiny piece of skin for us to see before casting it aside: “this will not go in the stock,” he said. there was no meat on that skin.

now it was our turn to fillet. i nearly ran across the kitchen to the two perforated pans where the round and flat fish sat, whole, on crumbles of ice. i had been anticipating this class all quarter. to me, it felt like validation. some of my classmates had already caught, killed and gutted fish on the lakes of canada and northern wisconsin. and not only did Chef frequently fish for trout at rushing waters , 15 miles north of lake geneva, in wisconsin, he also had carp living in the pond in his backyard–”the carp go from october to march without eating–they go dormant,” he said. “i keep them behind my house. i had two 26-inch carp that were almost 10 years old, but a mink ate one of them!”

last fall, i had watched a fisherman gut red fish on the dock in st. augustine, fla., but i had yet to gut, much less dress, a fish myself. i rinsed and patted my bass dry, heaving it on the cutting board. i glanced at my little notebook, filled with scribbles and drawings that offered little help now that i was staring into the clear eye of a whole fish.

the interesting part about filleting fish and boning chickens is that the bone structure of the animal is such that it lends itself to proper trimming with little waste. it is our insecurities and fears that turn beautiful meat into massacred piles of bone, skin and flesh.

after removing the fins and gills and partially detaching the head, i began slicing into the fish along the dorsel, as Chef had shown us. as i sliced further in, i felt little friction between the side of the blade and the fish, which indicated that i hadn’t cut straight along the skeleton. i peeled the flesh back a little. sure enough, about a centimeter of flesh remained attached to the bones. my fillet was already much too skinny.

Chef Bryan reprimanded me for leaving so much meat on the bones, but my facial expression must have softened him a bit. “it’s ok. just make sure you figure out what you did wrong so you can correct it next time,” he said, as he picked up my knife, flipped over the fish and expertly began cutting a perfect fillet on the other side, leaving me the rest to finish. i wondered how Chef Pierre would react to my mismatched pair of fillets.

removing the skin from the fillets was an entirely different task. i struggled to hold onto the slippery skin with my left hand as i sawed my way along the seam where flesh meets skin. i removed the little bones near the top of the fillet with my boning pliers. “don’t sit on those bass, guys!” Chef called impatiently. i had a feeling i was one of the only ones left to present my fish. when i finished, one fillet was about 3 centimeters narrower and shorter than the other and the flesh looked a bit mangled where i had dug around for bones. the skin had little shreds of flesh still stuck to it, but i was so proud. i cleaned my board the best i could, and carried my fillets over to the table where Chef was waiting. there were bits of fish stuck to my apron and hands that i quickly tried to clean off as i made my way over. “not too bad, Mar-gar-et,” he said. “those fillets they are a leettle skinny, eh?” he said, poking especially at my skinny first fillet. “but those are OK.”

i beamed and returned to my station to clean up what somewhat resembled a homicide scene. sorry, bass.