fish with a face.

I remember the first time that I ever had a "faceless" fish. It was right after we got to America, back in the early '90's, and were were "fresh off the boat". My father wanted to treat us to a buffet and I had never seen so much food in my life! One thing that I found odd, though, was the fish they served. Sitting there, under the hot heat lamp of the buffet, were slivers of fish flesh floating in an oil-slick of "lemon butter" sauce.

Confused, all I could think to myself was "Where's the rest of the fish?".

Soon after, I learned that people on this side of the world didn't like to see the face of what they were eating. Scratch that, they didn't want to see discernible parts that told them what the animal was. No chicken feet, no pig's head, no fish heads.

Fast forward to the future. I remember the first time that my husband ever had fried fish at my parent's house. While he dutifully ate what was presented to him during dinner, it wasn't until when we got home that he remarked on the "faces" of the fish. He found it odd that we didn't simply fillet the fish then fried it separate from the bones. How different, he remarked.

How do I explain? Eating the entire fish was normal for me. If he wasn't there, I would've cracked the skull open, scooped up the stray bits of flesh and offal, and would of ate it with delicious relish over rice. I would've picked the fish clean until only it's bones were bare and no morsel were left. This was how I was raised . . . to eat everything, waste nothing. And the heads, oh, the heads were the best part. The essence of the fish were contained in those heads.

It was moments like these that reminded me of how truly different we were from each other: my husband, a white mid-western raised boy from a small town in North Dakota. Me, a Filipina with a mix of Philippine roots and big-city Southern California upbringing. Our worlds could not have been any more opposite.

But that's why we're together. He's the ying to my yang, the butter to my toast, the cherry on my sundae. I love the easy-going friendliness he brings to my busy hurried life. Who knew afternoon naps could be so refreshing? And to him, I bring fishes with a face.

My favorite fish would have to be the pompano. It's a relatively firm fish with a nice mild flavor. Wrapped in banana leaf and seasoned with lemon, ginger, garlic, and parsley, this fish turns divine! I served this with my father's daikon radish salad, a type of Filipino sawsawan. We typically have this sawsawn with fried fish, but I had a hankering for it today. It usually consists of grated daikon radish, chopped tomatoes and onion, fresh cilantro, a mix of white vinegar and fish sauce, then seasoned to perfection with salt and pepper.

And yes, I did pick this fish to its bare, bare bones.

---- o o o o ---- 

Baked Banana Leaf-Wrapped Whole Fish
(makes 2 servings)

1 whole pampano, scaled and cleaned
1 lemon, sliced
1/2-inch knob ginger, peeled and sliced
handful flat-leaf parsley
1 clove garlic, minced
salt and pepper
olive oil
1 large banana leaf, enough to wrap fish

 
Preheat oven to 375F degrees.

Score the fish diagonally, up to the bone, a few times on each side. Spread the minced garlic in the cavity of the fish. Stuff the cavity with parsley, lemon, and ginger. Drizzle fish generously with olive oil then season well with salt and pepper on each side. Rub oil and seasoning into the fish, making sure to get between the scored flesh.

Wrap the fish in the banana leaf and tie well with either leftover banana leaf or kitchen twine. Bake for 25 minutes of until flesh between the scored skin is opaque. Remove from oven then cut the banana leaf open to expose the fish. Increase oven heat to 450F degrees and continue cooking fish until skin is slightly bubbled and banana leaf has charred, about 2 to 5 minutes. To serve, peel skin from meat and then portion out fish.