Fish arouses emotions that not many other foods can do. More nuptial proposals have been sealed over salmon, caviar and oysters washed with a sip of crisp Chardonnay or bubbly Champagne than sirloin steaks or lamb chops. The romance of fish and crustaceans is missing in meats. Who can forget the epic struggle of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea? Humans no longer hunt animals for the next meal. Nor do they have to catch their own fish for dinner (except from aquariums in tony seafood restaurants). Yet, angling continues to be a sport. Jim Corbett’s stories of mahseer fishing around Nainital have fascinated our childhood. But even netting or fishing boats and deep sea trawlers bringing in their daily haul have a charm of their own because one never knows what will be in the day’s catch.
Among Bengali men of my father’s generation, going to the market to buy fish was a ritual. They would first take a survey of the stalls to check what was on display. Having made up their mind, sometimes on more than one variety suited for different types of preparation -- fried, sauteed, curried etc -- or tastes of family members, they would go on a round of bargaining before making the final purchases. They would then return home from the fishing expedition as it were with the swagger of a hunter-gatherer. Depositing the bag in the kitchen, they would wait expectantly for the cup of tea well earned by the morning’s effort and approval of the spouse on a job well done. The routine was not very dissimilar in other fish-loving regions. A walk down the beach in Goa or Odisha to see fishermen unload their nets evoked similar pleasures.
Fish markets abroad have their own character and are fun too. The seafood sections in supermarkets are no less interesting. I visited the iconic Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo before it was shifted to a new location. It was an experience. The old market has now been turned into a tourist attraction with seafood restaurants and limited sales. But it is the main market where some historic sales have taken place such as when a bluefin tuna was auctioned for US dollars 3 million. What sets apart a fish market from others is the sheer variability and constant element of surprise. For example, meats are by and large standardised. One knows how meats from specific sources and particular cuts are likely to be. However, in the case of fish, it can change with every catch or supply. Then there is a question of seasonality as well. Some fishes are available at only certain times of the year. The quality between two shops can also be widely different. That triggers a unique energy between competing sellers and a sense of adventure among buyers who are trying to secure the perfect fish at the best price. One does not get the same level of satisfaction from buying factory-packed fish and seafood. Thus farm-bred salmon and shrimps are not half as popular among connoisseurs.
The Japanese, of course, have taken fish eating to a celestial level. No other civilisation or country can come anywhere close to it. People generally associate the Japanese with raw fish. The impression has been created by the popularity of sushi and sashimi. But try something as simple as a grilled mackerel at a Japanese restaurant next time to appreciate how every morsel of the fish can be enhanced with its own fat released with just the right amount of heat.
Western cooking of fish -- barring the English fried cod -- is generally subtle, preserving the flavours and juices with minimal use of oil, butter or condiments. A touch of herbs is all that is added to give it a nuanced twist. I loved the raw herring (soused herring) in Holland. But among all European cuisines, I like the way Italians do their fish -- surpassing the French (who are better at game, I think). It's one of the few dishes to which they do not add tomato purée and rely primarily on the finest olive oil, garlic, capers and sometimes mushrooms to produce the flavours. Alas, there aren’t too many Italian restaurants in India that serve great fish. One reason for that can be the non-availability of high quality fish.
The closer we move towards the equator, of course, the use of spices and the degree of cooking goes up. One of the soul-fulfilling fish dinners I had was at a Malayali shack Bu Qtair on Jumeirah Beach in Dubai. Going further East, the Thais make good fish. They use spices but not too much of it to kill the original character of the fish. Among their preparations, the Pla Rad Prik is my favourite, which is essentially a crispy fried fish coated with a tangy tamarind-based sweet and sour chilli sauce.
Returning to India, a large section of non-vegetarians are occasional fish eaters. This includes the Punjabis for whom it traditionally used to be a winter dish, either deep fried in large kadais at dhabas and sometimes as kebabs in tandoor marinated in the same masala of cumin, red chillies and ginger with julienes of onion doused in vinegar and mint chutney. Rajinder da Dhaba that now occupies an entire mall in Delhi’s Safdarjung Enclave with multiple outlets was originally a tarpaulin-topped eatery that was famous for its fried fish during winters.
Up north in Punjab and Jammu, dhabas sold fried fish by weight usually wrapped in newspapers. I remember on a trip to Kashmir in my late teens, me and my companion would thrive on fried fish and baby naan (bread) from push carts in Srinagar. The fish was supposed to be from the Dal Lake - mainly Singara, a variety of catfish that Bengalis call Aar. I do hope with normalcy returning in Kashmir, the street vendors are back too.
Kashmir was, of course, famous for its trout from the Lidder river. Recently my friend Rasheed Kidwai reminded me about Kashmiri trouts in his travel piece from Gurez valley located almost at the border of Baltistan. The original Kashmiri trout were the cold water snow trout variety. But later, rainbow trout and brown trout were introduced by the Maharaja with imported spawns. To be honest, I have had Kashmiri trout only at restaurants in Delhi -- of them the most memorable was at the Lodi Gardens. During the eighties and nineties when Kashmir was out of bounds, trout farming became popular in Himachal Pradesh around Kullu-Manali. The late Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee was a lover of trout and once went for a vacation to Kullu just to enjoy trout. It is heartening to know that trout farming is taking off in Kashmir. As per one report, trout production has tripled in Kashmir in three years from around 700 tons in 2019 to about 2000 tons in 2023. So, that's another reason to visit Kashmir soon.
Then there are the “hip” set who are seen at the 'FRP' (financially ruin our proposition) seafood restaurants like Trishna or Mahesh Lunch Home in Mumbai or Swagath in Delhi. My angst is not so much at their customers but more at the owners. I have had food at Mahesh on PM (PherozeShah Mehta) Road in Fort in the eighties when one could have a hearty lunch exchanging our Rs 25 Office Lunch Coupon (much like Sodexo of today). Believe me the food was better. You can still get a taste of that cooking at the many Malwani and Mangalorean restaurants in Mumbai like Highway Gomantak and Sayyba (both in Bandra) and many more in Dadar, Girgaum (alas Anant Ashram has shut down) and also in the Fort Area (try Sandeep Gomantak). In comparison, the newer restaurant chains like Sanedige (Bengaluru, Mangalore and Delhi) and Savya Rasa (Chennai, Delhi and Pune) serve more honest and authentic fare in a pleasant ambience at prices that don’t break an arm and a leg.
The highest category in the fish food chain feature those for whom fish is equal to life. Only a few communities qualify as true-blue “fisheterians”, if one may coin a term. The Bengalis, Malayalis, Goans lead the pack. Assamese and Odias follow closely. Konkan and Malvan also make the cut. The Assamese have imbibed the East Bengal influence from Sylhet (now Bangladesh). The mighty Brahmaputra yields a rich supply of all kinds of fish. They love large fishes like chitol but also relish dried fish (shutki) which becomes the mainstay when the rivers are in spate. When next in Gauhati, try one of the fish restaurants beneath the Ulubari flyover. You will get a similar fare also in the famous pice hotels (check out ADI Kalpana) in neighbouring Siliguri. The Odias, of course, have the advantage of having access to both sea and river fish, plus the brackish water crabs and prawns of Chilika -- the second largest coastal lagoon in the world. However, the best place for an authentic Odia fish meal is the Odisha Niwas in Chanakyapuri, Delhi.
For the Goans too, fish is sustenance for the soul while pork is for the body. But, as it is said, the Goans have only one masala and sauce for all their dishes. Their neighbours along Konkan and Malvan - though less passionate - also have a weakness for fish. However, the recipes are understated and homely, tasty but with a limited range. The curries have a predominance of coconut milk and kokum. Then there is the Sukka (that is the way clams, prawns, mussels are cooked) which also has a surfeit of grated coconut. But, I will admit them into our club.
However, I have no qualms in reserving first place for the Malayalis among the fish-eating population in the country. They deserve the honour because they are truly agnostic in their taste for fish. They are one community who enjoy sea, river (brackish water) fish, shellfish, crabs, prawns, mussels, squid, clams, oysters and sharks. The range of Kerala fish preparations is also wide and can take on the Bengalis in terms of variety. Their Karimeen (Pearl Spot) Pollichathu -- a banana-wrapped heavy masala laden variant of Parsi Patranu Macchi or Bengali Paturi -- is a delicacy but my vote will go for the Meen Manga (or tangy Raw Mango Fish Curry). Though Kochi is the popular destination, Kozhikode is the place to go if you truly love fish. But if you are not likely to travel to Kerala in a hurry, order some clam and mussel pickles over the net.
Read all food columns by Sandip Ghose here
(Sandip Ghose is an author and current affairs commentator. He tweets @SandipGhose.)