At the beach a few months back I was talking to a friend who had a white eel coiled up on ice in a cooler in the back of his truck. Its tiny teeth were ajar, eyes staring at me
At the beach a few months back I was talking to a friend who had a white eel coiled up on ice in a cooler in the back of his truck. Its tiny teeth were ajar, eyes staring at me as I learned the many ways to cook and eat this beastly creature. Although a tinge of sadness crept through me seeing something recently killed, I admired the concept of no blue Styrofoam plate and plastic wrap surrounding seafood — instead catching, preparing and utilizing most of what you are eating. I have started to pull food out of the dirt in my back yard, but have yet to retrieve anything from the sea, which is why I respect my fishermen friends all the more who accomplish this task frequently to feed those around them.
A few months later, I sat eating at the beach, watching the tide slip out. Wind tangled my hair and salt air coated my skin. I was savoring a tender, moist, fresh filet of moi (threadfin) straight from the sea with layers of complimentary flavors: crispy vegetables, salty sausage, spices and herbs and sauces I struggled to identify. It felt strange to taste something so gourmet while sitting in a wet, sandy swimsuit.
Moi, a fish reserved for ali‘i (Hawaiian royalty) in the past, closely resembles what you would order at a five star restaurant. However, this was cooked over a grill fashioned from a beer keg cut in half. There were no stainless steel tools or appliances, just tin foil and a plastic fork. No sous chefs, just a bunch of us leaning over the grill in awe, asking Fish what he was doing now, what was he going to do next. That’s his name, Fish, the fisherman and chef this day who cooked steamed moi, prepared Chinese style and generously shared it with everyone.
Fish explained that back in the day he and his friends would catch the moi (or papio or perch or rainbow runner or barracuda) and bring it to a Chinese restaurant where it would be prepared in the back and brought out to the table. It is one of his favorite ways to prepare his numerous catches.
I was delighted to discover after talking to Fish that this steamed moi is not as intimidating a recipe as I thought. Also, if you are not an expert diver or fisherman you can (gasp!) buy your fish for this dish.
“Any oily fish will do,” Fish says.
Opakapaka is a good alternative. You can cook it in the oven at home as well, for those of us who usually associate cooking at the beach with sandy, burnt hot dogs.
Fish’s
Steamed Moi
Serves 2
1 to 2 pounds of cleaned fish
1/2 head cabbage
2 links of lup cheong (Chinese sausage)
1 bag of chop suey mix
1/2 cup oyster sauce
Barbecue sauce
Hawaiian salt
Chopped cilantro
Chopped green onion
1/2 cup peanut oil
Lay out a large piece of tin foil. Chop cabbage and spread on foil. Lay the fish on the bed of cabbage. Sprinkle Hawaiian salt. Slice up lup cheong and stuff in the stomach or middle of fish. Stuff chop suey mix in as well (as much as will fit).
Spread the rest of the chop suey mix on top. Pour oyster sauce over fish. Pour barbecue sauce over fish.
Cover it by wrapping the sides of the tin foil over. Cook on barbecue for 10 minutes, or bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes in the oven. When it’s done, uncover foil and sprinkle cilantro and green onion on top. Pour peanut oil (Fish likes his oil boiling hot) over top of fish. Serve immediately.
• Lois Ann Ell is a freelance writer who combs the beaches of Kaua‘i for authentic island chefs.
