KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

As my Mum’s butterflied trout dish shows, a bit of resourcefulness can go a long way in the kitchen

A citrus tart can follow seafood, posing no risk to your digestion, which might explain its popularity in seafood towns.

I always thought of my Mum as an impressive home cook. When I was growing up in the San Fernando Valley, she made things that felt a bit fancy in a California-in-the-90s way, like steamed artichokes with lemon butter and toasted rice pilaf, sun-dried tomatoes scattered on everything. But it was her whole butterflied trout with garlicky breadcrumbs that dazzled 12-year-old me the most. There she was, just casually whipping up whole fish on a Wednesday as if she were auditioning for “Iron Chef”.

Not to burst anyone’s bubble, but once I started buying my own fish, 20-something-year-old me discovered how easily whole butterflied trout could be procured (butterflied fish has the spine and larger bones removed, but the fillets still connected), I realised my mum was not leading a secret double life as a fishmonger. She was just a very smart and resourceful home cook.

I would like to think that she passed on that low-key cleverness to me, and that it shaped my approach to home cooking, which can generally be summed up as “Looks Impressive” (capital “I”), but requires less effort and time than you would imagine, with fewer ingredients, too. The style I have cultivated has led to my being called an unfussy cook — which I take as a huge compliment.

To me, unfussy does not mean boring — it means approachable and accessible. It means getting dinner on the table with ingredients that are simultaneously inexpensive and interesting, treating them in a mix of new and familiar ways and doing it in less time than it takes to start a new series on Netflix. The recipes in this new column will follow suit, blurring the line between weeknight-friendly and weekend-worthy, because shouldn’t a great dish be both?

I think so, and this trout certainly is. There is the effortless, elegant presentation, combined with a dramatic proclamation: “I cooked an entire fish for you! On a school night!” But at its core, it is a simple sheet-pan dinner made with nine ingredients in under 30 minutes.

There are also a few practical benefits from cooking trout in its butterflied form, rather than individual fillets.

First, using the larger piece greatly reduces the risk of overcooking. Second, that larger piece buys you some time in the oven, which means you can throw something else on that sheet pan to cook alongside that trout. Thin, wispy stalks of broccolini are my personal favourite for the way their frilly ends get impossibly crisp, but other vegetables like boiled and crushed potatoes, stripped leaves of kale or halved cherry tomatoes, which will burst and get slightly saucy, are all excellent.

Third, while there are the inevitable tiny bones, which you can easily manoeuvre around, there is no “tableside filleting,” a phrase that should never be said in one’s own kitchen. (Remember: I am unfussy and want you to be, too.)

From there, the possibilities are as simple or complicated as you feel like making them: Scatter a few slices of citrus over the fish, drizzle with some olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and you are in business.

While the hearty breadcrumbs of my mum’s version are always excellent, in the hotter months I tend to keep things a bit lighter, so I make an ultra-garlicky vinaigrette using grated cloves of garlic, lemon juice, Aleppo pepper and olive oil to spoon over the pan immediately after it comes out of the oven. The residual heat mellows the rawness of the garlic while still keeping the dish bright, punchy and sharp — just like I like it.