Salt Crust



The last time I baked fish in a salt crust was on the Amalfi Coast of Italy, in a kitchen desperately lacking in cooking tools, but entirely redeemed by its window overlooking the sparkling Mediterranean Sea. On our second day there, we were poking around in the town of Amalfi just before siesta, and my charge was to find something fresh and scrumptious to cook for dinner. I quickly ducked into a fish market before they had a chance to close for the afternoon. Not knowing more than a few words of Italian, the pescatore and I played charades until I left with four or five hand-sized white fish – complete with heads, fins and scales. I had neither the knives nor the know-how to filet a fish, so I baked them whole in coarse sea salt, following a technique I had once seen Martha do on TV. The fish emerged from its salt crust luscious and bursting with the flavor of the sea. We dined on the veranda, listening to the waves rock against the cliffs just below and watching the lights come on in the town across the cove.
In ancient Rome, salt was valued so dearly that Roman soldiers received an allowance for it as part of their pay. The word for that portion - salarium - is the root of the English word “salary.” The incomparable memory of the fish we ate that night makes me understand completely why salt was once precious as gold.
Jacob, Cristina and I tried to recreate the experience for dinner last night. I splurged on a hefty 4 pound red snapper and picked up an extra box of kosher salt on my way home. The fish was beautiful with its shimmering pink and pearl scales. I rinsed it out and removed the gills, swearing to myself once again that I had to learn better knife skills. I stuffed some lemon slices into the cavity and set it aside.
I filled my big mixing bowl with coarse salt – probably six to eight cups of it – added a little less than a cup of water and one egg. It mixed up into a damp batter which I scraped into a large baking dish. I spread it out into a roughly oblong shape and laid the snapper on top. As Cristina and I started to bury the fish, we realized we didn’t have nearly enough salt. According to the recipes I consulted, you want to create at least a half inch layer all the way around the fish. I mixed up another batch. We packed the fish snuggly in this white coat until only the tip of its red tail poked out the end. Then it went into a very hot oven (450) for about 30 minutes.
The practice of roasting fish and meat in salt goes back to the Chinese, who discovered centuries ago that food cooked quickly and evenly when placed in a salt crust and roasted over an open fire. Because the salt retains heat so well, you can roast for shorter times at higher temperatures. In addition, the crust prevents moisture from evaporating and seals in the natural flavor of the food.
Surprisingly, the salt crust does not make the fish salty in the slightest. The crust is only there to retain the juices and conduct heat. The only way it will flavor the flesh of the fish within is if you add too much water to the crust mixture, creating a layer of salty water that bastes the fish rather than baking it.
A few minutes past the half hour mark we took out the fish. The crust had browned slightly and was hard as rock. It’s a little nerve racking not to know if the fish is ready – once you crack the crust there’s no going back. But you must take the plunge sooner or later. I took up the blunt end of my microplane (in retrospect I wish I had used something a little more glamorous, but it was the tool at hand) and with a resounding thwack, the crust cracked into large solid chunks. Steam immediately started pouring out from the cracks, and we broke away the pieces until the fish was uncovered, looking festive and intensely red against the salt piled around it.
What followed was a shameful display of incompetence that I cannot bear to rehash here. I’ve already admitted that I can’t filet a fish to save my life and last night was no exception. We ended up with a platter piled high with smallish and misshapen pieces and chunks which in a last ditch effort at elegance I garnished with lemon parsley.
The fish was full of flavor, moist and succulent. We ate it with a fresh salad and grilled baby artichokes, drizzled with their lemony marinade. We mopped our plates with a crusty durum baguette and drank a very pleasant, light pinot grigio. It was how every meal should be. And although we didn’t have a view of the Mediterranean, we did have the taste of it in our bellies.

Posted: Fri - May 21, 2004 at 03:11 PM      


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