Erica De Mane

Recipe below: Cod Roasted with Orange, Tarragon, and Pastis

Anyone who has followed me on Facebook may know this de Chirico painting. For many years I’ve used a crop of it as the image that runs across the top of my Facebook page. I’ve had no interest in changing it because it keeps feeling exactly right, and I use a different de Chirico at the top of ericademane.com. I hadn’t seen this painting whole in several years, but since it has always reminded me of Christmas Eve, I recently hunted it down again online, and I love it more now than ever. The original is in the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna in Rome. I’ve never been there, but that will be rectified on my next trip.

Fish and oranges are two foods that always appear on my Christmas Eve table, sometimes in the same dish, sometimes not. As I revisit this de Chirico in its totality, I’m reminded of how much I love its orange colors, the curves of the fish, and its Mediterranean Sea, turquoise and active. His placement of ancient sculpture ties it all into my ancient heritage, making it familiar and comforting to me, even though that’s just a bodyless head made from paint. But there’s also the edge that I’m drawn to. How can something be so both anxiety-provoking and comforting? De Chirico said that “what is especially needed is great sensitivity, to look upon everything in the world as enigma. To live in the world as in an immense museum of things.” I try to think of certain aspects of nature that way, oceans for instance, or animals that are killed so I can eat them, which bring me both anxiety and comfort. A pantheistic approach.

I’ve never fished. Maybe the squirming before the fish dies would horrify me. I don’t know. I might try it someday. I cook a lot of seafood. This de Chirico painting got me combining fish with orange and adding a touch of anise to pull it together, a sort of bouillabaisse-inspired ensemble.  The orange zest is key. You need a good amount. The result will be mellow but vibrant, not unlike the painting. I hope you’ll give it a try.

I still love scungilli on Christmas Eve. It has fallen out of fashion among many italoamericani. It has the strangest taste, always reminding me of musty incense from an old hippy shop. Very unseafoody but so alluring. I need a little scungilli on my Christmas Eve table, even if I’m the only one who eats it.  P.E. & D.D. Seafood, at the Union Square Greenmarket, out of Riverhead, Long Island, is where I purchased the beautiful, thick cod fillets for this recipe. P.E. & D.D. also sells locally caught conch (scungilli) that they precook in the shell so it’s ready for slicing, for a salad, or to mix into pasta. They also make their own scungilli salad, which is good but maybe a touch too garlicky for me. If you want scungilli for Christmas Eve, you can find P.G.& E.E. at Union Square market on Monday and Friday and at Abingdon Square Saturday. They’ve also got beautiful Little Neck clams right now, in case you’re considering linguine and clam sauce for the holiday.