Merluza

Garlic, oil and the fish’s own gelatin, shaken not whisked.

The green in salsa verde is raw parsley and nothing else.

The sauce is an emulsion of oil and fish juice. No butter, no flour.

They share a pan and each makes the other taste more of the sea.

Acid in the pan liquid stops soft flesh reading flabby.

Sweet green beads against a fish with almost no flavour of its own.

Spring bitterness where the fish supplies none.

Sliced under the fillet, it drinks the emulsion as it forms.

Roasted sweetness and a little smoke, both without heat.

Two soft, faintly bitter things. Cook them the same minute.

Safranal's hay sits on top of the marine bromophenols in the flesh.

Kelp-cured for an hour, it firms enough to survive a hot pan.

Salt and crunch, and no seasoning needed anywhere on the plate.

Terpene perfume over a quiet fish reads as sea air with flowers.