Contrasts of flavor, color and texture are an integral part of Sephardic gastronomic tradition – of others, too, of course, though by no means all (where I live, the food is mostly mushy, bland and tending toward weirdness), and to varying degrees among them. One of our signatures is a sour sauce, agrestada, or agristada (from the Spanish root word agrio: sour).

Agrestada is an egg and lemon mixture that’s either blended right into a hot dish as a finishing touch, exactly as the Greeks do avgolemono (which means egg-lemon), or cooked separately to yield a luscious lemon mayonnaise. The light note – and that’s all it is supposed to be – of sourness, of piquancy, wakes up the taste buds with a pleasant, lemony tingle, not a shock.  It’s intended for specific dishes, to bring out the flavors it accompanies, not to compete with them, to create a ‘whole’ experience; a gastronomic yin and yang. Which means the lemon flavor should be easy to discern, but it shouldn’t twist up the mouth like a fistful of Sweet Tarts, or whack you – or the food it’s eaten with – senseless. (more…)

Anyone who’s read anything about Sephardic food must surely know by now that fish and chips made their way to England via the Portuguese Jews (who, by the way, were for the most part of Spanish descent). Fish has always been an abundant staple throughout Iberia, and just as likely to be fried as not. In a place and time when it mattered, it was the Sephardim who fried their fish exclusively in olive oil, so it was indeed exotic and novel to the English, until then accustomed only to cooking with animal fats, to be introduced to this element of the Mediterranean diet – and in the sixteenth century, no less. The crisp batter was the real seducer here, of course, but for me it’s always a let-down, something they’ve amazingly not gotten the hang of in England despite four centuries of practice. With one – one! – exception, I’ve never had fried fish in England that wasn’t (more…)

“My father would eat an appetizer which was raw fish with lemon squeezed onto it. I think it is called LAKADA, made from mackerel. He would eat it with greek olives and bread.
I am a Sephardic Jew who grew up in Brooklyn and now live in Kansas City and would like to know how my mother prepared this dish for my dad.” – Joseph

The recipe name you’re trying to remember is lâkerda,  the Turkish name for an appetizer of marinated raw tuna or of bonito, which is indeed a kind of mackerel (When made with bonito, it is correctly called palamida, which is the Greek name for that fish).  Both are oily, blue fishes.  I’m not partial to mackerel, but I love raw tuna marinated in lime juice and this is essentially the same thing.

[NOTE: I've corrected this entry regarding the names, lâkerda vs. palamida.]

The technique is very straightforward; probably the most difficult part of making lakerda is cleaning and boning the fish.  How you approach that will depend upon the kind of fish you’ve got, and what’s available at the fish market depends upon where you live.  If you don’t know your way around fish, ask your local fishmonger for guidance, or ask him/her to clean the fish for you.  And if you can’t get fresh mackerel (you probably can’t), ask for a good substitute.  Or use a mild, white flesh fish, which will be a different experience altogether.

When you’ve settled on your choice of fish, place the cleaned, fresh fillets in a glass or ceramic dish, cover liberally with lemon juice and leave to marinate overnight in the refrigerator.  Bring the fish to room temperature, drain it and serve, with a splash of olive oil, if you like, to balance the acidity of the lemon juice. A spash of fresh-squeezed orange juice is also pretty sensational.  Tradition calls for olives, too, just as you remember from your childhood (I’m guessing you mother served kalmatas). These will complement the snack with their saltiness  (Is it mean of me to be posting this a few hours before Yom Kippur?).

Should you be wondering, the lemon cooks the fish, but if the prospect makes you squeamish, first freeze the raw fillets for a day or two, thaw them in the refrigerator and then marinate immediately while still cold.  Any leftovers should be stored in the refrigerator and eaten within 2 days.

Thanks for your question, Joseph.

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