Episode 18: Maine Shrimp

Having grown up in southern Florida, there's something familiar to me about living in a place where people speak naturally of "the season" and everyone knows what that means, where full-time residents resent the part-timers even, or perhaps especially, if they work in a business that is dependent upon them. I imagine that in any such place there are things about the off-season, the time of year when harsh weather chases off the tourists and seasonal residents, that make it bearable or even wonderful, and that help remind those who choose to live there year-round about what keeps them in place.

I say "I imagine" because I never figured out what that was about Florida: I hated the place and couldn't wait to get out. But I've figured out what one of those things must be in Maine: Maine shrimp.

You can only get fresh Maine shrimp in winter. This year, the catch season began January 1. It is always a short season, because the shrimp migrate, but this year it promises to be especially short, as the catch limits have been dramatically curtailed by the fisheries service. I've already cooked with them twice, and would have done so more often if I were more flush with cash. Though honestly, they're not that expensive, either. The last time I checked the Harbor Fish Market, they were $9/pound for fully shelled ones, $6/pound for the ones that have had their heads removed but still have their shells, legs and tails, and only $2/pound for whole shrimp with heads. I usually get the headless ones and shell them myself. They're easy to clean; usually, after I take off the first shell segment, the meat will pop out with a gentle tug. If I wanted to make a shrimp stock--and I imagine these cuties would make a glorious one--I'd get the whole ones and reserve the heads and shells.

They are relatively small, sweet, with a rich crustacean flavor. Sort of like concentrated lobster.

So far my preparations have been relatively simple, and I give an example of one below. But I've been thinking about some of the world's great shrimp dishes, and which would go well with, or perhaps even be improved, by Maine shrimp. Here are just a few that come to mind:

• Bobó de Camarão (Brazil)
• Har Gow (Chinese shrimp dumplings)
• Amaebi Nigiri Sushi

Mainers: Have fun with them while they last! Anyone out of state is welcome to come and try them, if you don't mind the chill (12 degrees Fahrenheit as I write).

This is my concoction from last night. I like pairing haddock with the shrimp. Partly, it's because Hot Librarian is not much of a fan of crustaceans. But also, I think haddock goes nicely with shellfish. It has good fat content and a rich taste of its own. It's a fish that is ubiquitous in Maine, and underappreciated elsewhere. Which I hope remains the case, lest the prices follow a cod-like trajectory.

Maine Shrimp and Haddock in Tarragon Lemon Butter

• 2 Tbsp olive oil
• 1 haddock fillet, 8-12 ounces
• Sea salt
• Freshly cracked black pepper
• 1 large shallot, chopped finely
• 3 Tbsp dry vermouth
• Juice of half a lemon
• 2 Tbsp cold butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 Tbsp chopped fresh tarragon
• 8 ounces of Maine shrimp, shelled
• Lemon wedges for serving

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Put oil in an ovenproof skillet.
3. Season the haddock with salt and pepper and place flat in the skillet.
4. Place skillet in oven. Cook for 15 minutes.
5. Remove skillet from oven and haddock from skillet. Reserve haddock on a plate and cover with foil to keep warm.
6. Place skillet on a burner at medium heat. The residual haddock fat will begin to foam. When the foam begins to subside, add the shallot. Cook the shallot until soft, about 2 minutes. (Do not grab the handle with an unprotected hand--it's still hot from the oven!)
7. Add vermouth and let cook until mostly evaporated.
8. Lower the heat to very low and add the lemon juice. Then add the butter one piece at a time, swirling in the skillet to melt and incorporate into the sauce.
9. Add tarragon and stir so it is thoroughly incorporated.
10. Add the shrimp, spreading evenly in the skillet. Raise heat to medium-low, so that it gently poaches in the sauce. Cook until shrimp is just cooked, turning once. This step took me about 12 minutes, but it could vary depending on your range. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
11. Return the haddock to the pan and gently toss to coat it in the sauce and re-warm it. If the haddock breaks into bite size pieces, that is not a problem; you just don't want to shred it to bits.
12. Serve with lemon wedges and any winter vegetable that has a bit of natural sweetness. (I served it with a parsnip puree, which was a great match.)