Read about my obsessive worrying (including worries over this dish), or scroll down for a recipe for rockfish wrapped in banana leaves with mango-clementine relish.
I am a worrier.
I worry about everything imaginable. There's the inherited worrying from my mother-- of the oh-my-god-did-I turn-off-the-stove nature. Clearly, this worrying affects the oven, the dryer (can't trust those timers to turn off on their own), the dishwasher, and even the automatic shut-off coffee pot. It's a good thing I've cut my hair short because at least now I don't worry whether I remembered to unplug the hot rollers.
There's the worrying about things I need to do. This seems to manifest itself most when our house gets disorderly. I need a schedule for cleaning bathrooms! Why can't we all just pick up after ourselves? We need to stop wearing shoes in the house; we're tracking mud all over the place. . . now I need to find time to clean the floors. . . . You get the point.
Early in my pre-adult life, I thought myself quite the laid back person. At age 16, I declared myself a hippie and took on activities like yoga, making hemp jewelry, and reading poetry.
Then, at age 21, I was a professionally dressed school teacher in the inner-city. Imagine my shock when an older teacher teased me that I was just like her: a worrier. A worrier! I shook it off, telling myself that of course I worried. I was teaching kids who were way behind grade level and had terrible home lives. Who wouldn't worry in my situation?
But then, the more time passed, I realized she was right. And it seems to have gotten worse lately. Just a month ago I was in Buffalo for a dear friend's wedding. We were all doing the usual bridesmaid's routine of manicures and pedicures. Halfway through the manicure, my technician looked up at me and said "You're type A, aren't you?" If she hadn't been applying red fingernail polish to my hands, my reaction would have been more severe.
"How can you tell?" I asked.
"Oh, you have a lot of tension in your hands."
Maybe I should go back to burning incense (oh, the fire hazard!) and sewing my own clothes. At least there would be the facade of a Type B personality, the cool calm demeanor of a hippie.
By now you're probably wondering what this has to do with rockfish and banana leaves. And at this point, I'm worrying that I've perhaps lost you.
You see, I worried a bit about posting this recipe. It's not quite local. Actually- between the banana leaf wrapping and the mango and clementine relish that tops it all off, you could say it's rather international. Would my readers mind?
After a lot of anxiety over the challenges of the winter season (the weather, a recent terrible cold, the decline in produce variety), I decided to share this with you anyway. I'm not perfect, after all-- and there's no point fretting over it. Besides, this is a delicious and simple way to prepare fish.
If rockfish is not available in your area, use another white fish. You should be able to find banana leaves at any Latin grocery store. And if they aren't available, you can simply wrap the fish in parchment paper to achieve a similar effect.
Rockfish roasted in banana leaves with mango-clementine relish {Serves 4}
Adapted from Bobby Flay's From My Kitchen to your Table
For the fish:
- 4 Rockfish filets
- 3 TB EVOO
- salt and pepper, to taste
- 1 banana leaf, cut into 4 rectangles
- 2 clementines; separated into segments, then cut in half
- 1 large mango, diced
- juice of one lime
- 2 TB cilantro, minced
- 1-2 dashes of hot sauce, to taste
- 1 clove garlic, finely minced
- salt and pepper, to taste
Preheat the oven to 400F. Rub each filet with olive oil, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Wrap the fish envelope-style with a banana leaf segment. Place seam-side down on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Roast for 8-10 minutes until the fish is firm and opaque.
Combine all relish ingredients and refrigerate until fish is ready. Note: the relish can be prepared up to one day ahead.
Serve the fish in the banana leaves, topped with relish.
This is also delicious with a bit of mole sauce.
Enjoy, and of course, don't forget to turn off the oven when you're done.
