Mediterranean Branzino Sous Vide in a Lemongrass Coconut Milk Bath

This is another one of those culture combining posts.  Be warned if you don’t think a Seattle sparrow should fly to Greece by way of Thailand in order to rassle up dinner for the evening.  You know it, I know it, I’m going sous vide crazy right now. It’s a culinary trend that’s sweeping the nation and I’ve tethered onto the broomstick nice and tight.  I can’t help it though, it’s just so fun to throw something into the steamy water bath and forget about it for several hours, only to find that you’ve cooked it to perfection because of, not in spite of your absentmindedness.  I’ve been playing with all manner of meats and vegetables, but not yet a whole fish. Until now. 

Branzino is a sexy, spectacular fish; bass of the Mediterranean, it’s sometimes called.  The first time I had it in Oporto, Portugal at Don Tonho restaurant, it was cooked fully immersed in rock salt in order to lock in the moisture and sweetness of the delicate flesh.  It came out on a glamorous silver platter buried in a deep salt grave that the waiter excavated in order to extricate my dinner.  He filleted it perfectly, leaving nary a bone, and ceremoniously removed the head with a felling flourish as a finale to his dramatic work.  I always thought he was uber-talented in his tableside displays, but after last night I realize it’s actually quite easy to debone a branzino tableside.  The bones slide away from the flesh as effortlessly as the last grain of sand that passes through an hourglass, it’s such a fluid gesture. 

I knew I wanted to sous vide a fish when I began my search through the fish market; I just wasn’t sure which one. I didn’t bank on tossing in a whole fish; in fact I was thinking mild, white and filleted- aka sea bass.  I was pleased as punch when I spotted several branzino gazing up at me with their milky eyes from their crystal bed of ice.  It’s rare that branzino travels to Seattle, so I was happy to be among the lucky recipients of three whole fish- what a boon!  I wanted to do a coconut milk-based sauce, so I slashed my branzino’s belly three times much like you’d score a loaf of bread heading into the oven.  This is so the coconut milk can properly seep into the fish and infuse it with subtle flavor. 

Once my fishes were gutted, rinsed, slashed, cleaned and dried, I was ready to make fusion magic happen.  I made a 17” long foodsaver pouch, since my three fish were each about 13” in length.  I gently slid each soul into the cooking bath, all vacuously staring off in the same vague direction of my knives.  I gave a flitting penny for their post-mortem thoughts given that they appeared to be staring at my knives, then realized I must be spending too much time alone with dead fish and knives and got back to the task at hand.  I tossed lemongrass, kaffir lime leaf, cilantro, sea salt, garlic and a touch of lime into the bag distributing it evenly around the three fishlings.  Then I poured in a cup of coconut milk.  Sealing the bag when you have this much liquid can be tricky; that’s why you want to cut the bag extra long, so it is harder for the liquid to seep up to the seam.  The easiest way is to hang the bag off the edge of the counter as you’re sealing so you have gravity working in your favor to prevent the liquid from reaching the seam.  Once a fair bit of air has been removed, press the seal button on the foodsaver, before you jam it up with a ton of coconut milk goo.  It’s not 100% imperative to get every drop of oxygen out here- the fish will cook nicely regardless. 

I cooked the branzino for one hour at 120° and it was just perfect, but if you’re repeating this you’ll want to measure the thickness of your fish and cook accordingly, 45 minutes for 1” of thickness, or 2:45 for 2”.  My branzino was a millimeter over 1” so I added a few minutes to the cooking time and it came out just right.  The eery thing at this point was the visual shimmer of the fish.  Because the sous vide style doesn’t crisp up the exterior, the fish looked almost alive after their cook bath, so I second-guessed myself in terms of cooking time, although it turned out to be just right.  If you have a problem with fish making googley eyes at you from a platter, simply remove the heads before you cook them, though I think they add flavor and allure to the final presentation.  I filleted them tableside for our two dinner guests who were brave enough to partake, and they were decently impressed with my mad skills.  Said skills were previously unknown to me, but like I said, branzino is probably the easiest fish to dismember I’ve ever encountered.  The fish subtly took on the flavor of the infusion but the delicate meat was not overpowered by excessive spice.  There was no need for salt or citrus at the table and for a few minutes all you heard was the happy cacophony of forks sliding through porcelain flesh.  I’m chalking it up to a major sous vide success.  Here’s to hoping I have the opportunity to recreate the branzino bash in the very near future.