Thinking Zen in the kitchen: squid

When you study Zen, one of the things that is stressed is the illusory nature of things. There is one classic example that I have always remembered. It deals with a traveler, who is lost in the mountains. He's hot, he's tired, it's getting cold, and he's hungry and thirsty. He wanders into a cave, and because it's late, there's not enough light to see. But he finds a pile of rocks to sit down against, where he can fall asleep. As he does so, he stretches out his arm, and his hand touches water. Being as thirsty as he is, he scoops up a bit of it, and drinks. And he finds it the sweetest water he ever tasted. So he continues, and then, while still hungry, his thirst is slaked, and he goes to sleep.

When he wakes up the next morning, the cave is lit up, and he sees that the water he's been drinking has been coming from a hollow, human skull. Which of course raises the question: would he have drunk the water if he had seen the skull? Most of want to say yes, but I think the answer is that most of us would not.

This is an elaborate lead in to a dish that many people immediately avoid: squid. Well, for the most part. Most people will eat fried calamari, but as one person put it, most people would eat their own big toe if it were fried (I'm not sure about that, but anyway)... But confronting people with a squid that looks like a squid, and is not fried, immediately produces an attack of the skeeves. Indeed, my friend Rich, who will try just about anything (there is a story of him having eaten honey ants in Texas and Mexico. By the way: they're good), just will not eat squid. I once got him to eat a few pieces of it, in a complex fish stew, by threatening to withhold ice cream from him at dessert. So he bravely dug in, took two pieces, ate them and then said "I can't. That's it. No more."

He got extra ice cream for that willingness to cross his boundaries.

But on squid, it's one of those things where I think: if people did not see what they were eating, they would enjoy it, IF it were cooked properly. Because it is very easy to cook squid BADLY. The "bottom line" on squid is that given its muscular composition, either you have to "flash" cook it (like the fried calamari), or cook it for fairly long and slow, so it's tender. Anything in between produces a product that will remind you of a big ugly rubber band. Tonight, we're eating squid. It's good. We should eat it more because it's inexpensive, its sustainable, and: did you know that it is the number one "crop" out of the oceans in the tristate area? Seriously, there is more squid harvested in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut than any other fish. Clearly, it's all going abroad, since no one here is eating it. Let's try to change that.

What follows is a VERY easy recipe from the hand of Lidia Bastianich, with my addition to it. You have to look at this this way: if for some reason you just can't handle the squid, you can always make a plate of pasta. The squid isn't that expensive, so give it a try. Please.

You'll need to start with about two pounds of squid (you can cut down the number of them, by the way, but don't cut down the other ingredients). Layer these in a baking dish that you can then put on the stove, or in a big skillet, or something, where they can lay in a single layer. Then add 4 peeled cloves of garlic (you can slice the garlic if you like, but the dish will be stronger, and squid does taste very delicate), and then add 1/4 cup of olive oil and a sprinkling of salt and pepper. Stir this all up. Now, cover the pan with aluminum foil, put it in a preheated, 375 degree oven, and let it bake for 20 minutes. (While that is happening, you can of course make contingency plans in case you don't like it).

After twenty minutes, take off the tin foil, and add 1/4 cup of clam juice if you have it, or 1/4 cup of fish stock if you have that instead, or, in fact, 1/4 cup of chicken stock. Normally, I would say you could use a dry white wine, but not here. I think it would be too strong and too acidic and throw off the balance of the dish. Bake this for another 1o or 15 minutes, without the foil on top. Check the doneness of the squid by poking it with a skewer, or a toothpick, something like that. You want to have it slide in and out easily.

Now cover your hand with a mitt or a napkin or something, and move the pan to the stovetop. Cook this at high heat until your liquid becomes syrupy, and you're done.

What I do at this point is add a bit of chopped, preserved lemon. You don't have to do it. But you might consider something other than the traditional parsley garnish. Perhaps a fresh lemon is floating your boats that night. Or maybe olives? (careful with that. Don't use too many). Perhaps a little crispy pancetta?

I think that if you give this dish a try, you may find you really DON'T hate squid. Much of what he "hate" is illusory, if you think about it. And it of course changes. So try it. I plan to make it over pasta, so you know, if you try to do the same thing, you'll have your pasta ready, so if you want to have a pot of sauce ready in the wings, "just in case," don't let me stop you.