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Created by Chef Ally
Wild halibut seared until the crust shatters and the flesh stays silky, finished with nutty brown butter, briny capers, and a bright squeeze of lemon that cuts through the richness like morning light.
Start with the fish. A thick halibut fillet from cold Pacific waters, firm to the touch, smelling of nothing but the sea. This is the whole point. Without pristine fish, technique is just compensation.
Halibut comes into season in spring and holds through early fall, depending on where you live and who is fishing. Find a fishmonger you trust, one who can tell you when the boat came in. The flesh should be translucent, almost opalescent, with no gaps between the flakes. If it smells fishy, it is not fresh. Walk away.
The technique here is simple because it has to be. A hot pan, a few minutes of patience, and brown butter that you make in the same skillet while the fish rests. The fond (those caramelized bits stuck to the pan) becomes your sauce. The lemon brightens everything. The capers add the salt and brine of the sea. You are not building flavors so much as conducting them.
This is the kind of cooking I believe in. Get out of the way. Let the ingredient speak. Your job is to apply heat correctly and know when to stop.
Quantity
4 (6-8 ounces each, about 1 inch thick)
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| halibut fillets | 4 (6-8 ounces each, about 1 inch thick) |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
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