Aren’t Crunchy Scales Better than Chips? They’re Gourmet!
Fish stories of Macau
Look closely. See those fluffy, crispy, translucent scales perking up at attention? Kruuusssch… Lighter than wafer-thin chips! And a ton more nutritious. Move over, deep-fried carbs. Don’t need you for a crunchy batter.
Chef Tam got this horse-head tilefish fresh from the local market this morning.
He pan-fried it and finished with residual heat for maximum flavor. The underside of the fillet is oh-so-tender and moist.
Some fish come with soft, round, flexible scales, like hilsa herring, crucian carp, and certain tilefish. Cycloid types. Ancient gourmets used ground fish scales in terrines and soups, says the supplemental texts to Shennong’s Materia Medica (206 BC -220 AD). In modern terms: Enhances blood circulation and bone density; fish scale collagen heals wounds.
Lighter than wafer-thin chips! And a ton more nutritious.
Sprinkling coarse salt on the scales before cooking does the trick. That opens up the scales like flower petals in time-lapse motion when in touch with heat. Ah, the wisdom of those before us.
My coastal-living DNA is a perk. It only became apparent when seasonal treasures meant imported frozen in my desert-climate years of yore. Macau is gifted with regional waters, where the riverine meets the marine.
Little Macau once rivaled major fishing ports in the Pearl River Delta. The 1927 Macau census showed 20,000 fishermen among the 150,000 local population. Even while bombs were falling everywhere during WWII, fishing remained robust here. Macau, as a Portuguese colony then, stayed neutral.
Babies. Death. Nuptials. Everything happens on the fishing boat, the juncture of fishermen’s life.
For centuries fishermen here made sails with seaweed and nets with mountain plants, foraged shore hills for medicinal herbs, and wrestled venomous sea snakes for profit or survival. Harvest is unpredictable. A fisher family rises and falls with Mother Nature.
Eventually land life, perceived safer for the next generation, tempted heart-breaking, gut-wrenching transitions for the fisher-folk families. While some made it big with houseboats worth two land apartments, most eked out a challenging living with no access to conventional schooling. Nature is the fisherman’s book.
To transition, for years the dad on the fishing boat would not see his wife and kids — schooled on land — except for Lunar New Year and maybe once a summer.
Life at sea is lonely and perilous. Yet free. Life on land? Scales or chips?
A walk down the gravel pavements in Coloane, the coastal tip of Macau, finds two stores thriving with regional sun-dried seafood touted on marine graphics: Dried shrimps the size of fingers, fish maw, conpoy, sea conch, abalone. The picturesque pavement reminds me of ancient Roman markets along the Silk Road. Abundant local delicacies of salted yellow-tail and white herring attract attention. The charming little community was once a robust fishing village.
For fresh fish, Chef now scouts elsewhere.
Today, less than 200 fishing boats survive in Macau as global imports become popular. The fresh horsehead tilefish suddenly tastes even better. Crispy scales.
© Pseu Pending (Seu) 2022
Read this next.
