Señor Pulpo

Pulpo, of course, is Spanish for octopus, and Señor Pulpo is Spanish for Mr Busy Hands. One young lady who came to Ish's party last year was so impressed with the octopus that she made me promise to cook it for her again. So I got my hands busy!

Always being the adventurous soul, this time I sought out a fully grown octopus. Georges seafood came to my aid with cooking directions as well as the freshest octopus, so this is really the fish monger's recipe. Be prepared to have your kitchen smell like octopus for a couple of days.

Ingredients

1. 1 Large octopus

Green Grocer

1. 2 Lemons
2. 1/2 bunch Oregano

Dry Store

1. 1/2 cup good Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2. Bread

Method

• Hopefully your fish monger has already seen to it that the octopus has been cleaned and bashed (yes, bashed. You must bash octopus to tenderise it).
• Cut the octopus into bit-sized pieces, remembering that it will shrink by more than a third, once cooked.
• Put it in a heavy based saucepan and let it cook. After about 5-10 minutes, it will be stewing in its own juices. Just let it cook without a lid until this is completely evaporated.
• Towards the end of this process, the sticky remains of the juices will start to catch on the pan. Add all the olive oil (and more if you like - you can dip bread into this later).
• Cook for another 5-10 minutes. Ideally, you should get some sizzle and end up with a little bit of browning on the meat.
• Throw in the oregano leaves and remove from the heat.
• Add enough lemon juice to give it a slight tang (You could also put in a teaspoon of lemon zest)
• Serve with a salad and crusty bread and wedges of lemon.

Notes The smell really does hang around, so if you can't resist, the best thing to do is cook outside. Don't neglect cooking in a pot when you have a barbecue. I have a friend who loves his deep fried battered fish and has a special portable hotplate so he can do it outside and not stink up the house. Also, one of the most famous of all Spanish dishes, the Paella, is traditionally cooked outdoors (in some of the biggest frypans you've ever seen) over a bed of coals.
You could use a vinegar instead of lemon juice, but do not forget that this dish needs some acid. This is the magical part. Every recipe has a magical bit in it, which, if left out suddenly renders the dish ordinary. Sometimes its an ingredient, or, more likely, a combination of ingredients, and sometimes its a technique, but it is always essential if you want something that is more than the sum of its parts.
And just in case you are wondering what octopus has to do with hockey - I know I was - check out Bruno's Hockey Shop

What? No Christmas Posting?

What? No Christmas posting? Well I was full of good cheer and only narrowly avoided the usual overeating, but the truth of it is that Christmas belongs to the carnivores.

I call myself a semi-vegetarian because I do occasionally eat seafood. The fact of it is, I can go fishing and kill a fish without it weighing too heavily on my conscience (I don't know why - there is a different logic at work), but the few times in my life when I've taken the life of a terrestrial animal for food, it has haunted me. Don't get me wrong, I realise I'm still taking a life; and I do also when I buy a pair of leather shoes, but then I do also take a life when I squash a cockroach or take antibiotics, or eat vegemite (All those poor hundled masses of yeast - Yeast! I'd have to give up beer if I was going to go 'all the way').

"You must think I'm a monster!" gasped Lisa Simpson when, upon revealing her nascent vegetarianism to Apu, hears about his veganism. This choice, for me is about mindfulness rather than puritanism. That is, the simple, daily act of being aware of the consequences of my actions. Compassion allows us to do this and yet not be immobilised by the potentially chaotic (in the butterfly effect sence) consequences of our actions.

If the recipes here feature seafood too often, then it's because they are occasional recipes. When I cook for friends, I like to please, and seafood always has an air of luxury about it (well, not always). When they cook for me, people tend to latch on to this seafood loophole and I tend to accept it with good grace and offer up my prayers, for what they're worth.