COUSIN JOHN'S FISH IN CRAZY
WATER
Cara, my cousin John Patrick Nokes has
been on holiday, courtesy of Her Maj, on a number of occasions. And let's get
this straight, he doesn't cook. He's
no culinary artiste. 'Owever, 'an as may be, 'ees spent some memorable
moments in exotic places where the nosh was a bit special, one being the island
of Tenerife, where he was "Security" on a boat owned by some well
paying respectable gents back in London. The
portside cafes offered cheap and tasty nosh and one of them provided the
following recipe to John's female acquaintance after some fish happened to
swim their way, as it were. The tomato base sauce is a common Mediterranean base
for cooking fish, there are many although this one is unusual in it's use of
water. I have however found a similar recipe in the book "Marcella Cucina"
written by the great Italian chef Marcella Hazan. Marcella found the recipe in
Amalfi which is an Italian coastal town, a pretty place incidentally
where your Mum and I ate at a wharfside restaurant in 1975 owned by a family
which had relatives in Fever Docker (Fivedock) , Syd - in
- y. Lovely people
and a memorable night.
Back to the story. What would
a Jack The Lad knockabout bloke like John do with such a thing as a recipe, for
Gawd's sake? John and his brother Jim are the sons of John Nokes and Gladys
Kirk, my Mum's sister. As with ourselves they were brought up in Deal, Kent
although both John and Jim now sport London accents, as a nod towards
worldliness one might think, although their father was a Londoner. Cousin Johnny
Pat, as we called him, was a bright youth who kept getting into "bov-vah".
He had a penchant towards fisticuffs and later, martial arts, also he was very
adept on the guitar and led his own band. I
remember my Aunt Cynthia, who was Gladys and Drene's sister, telling me that
she came across John sunning himself on a bench near Deal railway and she asked
him "John you’re a bright boy why do you get yourself into so much
trouble?" To which he replied "I dunno Aunt Cynfia, if I was so bright, why
do I keep gettin' into trouble?" I guess it was just one of those fings.
He had quite a reputation in
Deal both for his fighting skills and for his guitar playing. On one occasion
John practised his martial arts on three detectives who had no doubt approached
him with some tricky questions, and he was given a long holiday on an island for
that one. I remember when Denise and I saw him in the mid seventies in Deal High
Street, confident and cheerful, not so much the cockiness of youth now but
dressed sharply as you might expect of a person whose position on the Manor was
chiseled in events, without question. He was a lord within the old wattle and
daub boundary tribal culture within the UK, one which manifests itself each
weekend on the soccer pitch, and often afterwards at the local drinking
headquarters on the patch.
John's
brother Jim moved to Brisbane in the mid 90s and has made a good living for
himself. He ran his own business back in Deal, an excellent soccer player and as
befits a businessman was Chairman of the board of the club. He was well regarded
and had earned his position on The Manor, as he saw it - " a lot of
families are depending on me Barry, the business you know". He saw himself
as a self-made success and he was proud of his position as being something of a
gov'ner within his own community, people what matter. He was well aware of being
in the hierarchy of his own class, within classes recurring; thousands of wattle
and daubed tribes throughout the land.
He was proud of John
"could've been anything Barry, anyone would tell you that.."
Circumstances however intervened - "ee was a victim of 'imself really".
Jim was proud of his brother's physical prowess, proud of his own as well and
the two would have made an almighty combination, had events demanded so. He
visited here in the early 90s sussing the place and I remember he recounted the
tale of how John had had some agro at a gig in an historical Kent pub with three
large members of a very powerful tribe, the 'Ells Angels.
"'EE was at this gig - he
makes a living out of it, likes to stay clean these days but when he wants some
extra dosh I give 'im a couple of days on the site if I've got it. Anyway this
gorilla was causing the bass player some grief and John stayed out of it until
the gorilla's chums joined in the fun, and so he felt loike obliged to deal wif
the situation as was." Which
turned around remarkably quickly in Jim's account when a few well timed jabs to
tender unprotected parts followed in swift succession by perfectly aimed boots
to the larynx confused the endeavours of the leather clad warriors who were
subsequently a touch peeved by this public disgrace of the very talents upon
which their unholy reputation is based. So John, in the course of events, was
dealt the modern equivalent of The Black Spot. He heard that feelers had been
sent out in order to locate him.
He was on the debit list of
the local Chapter which embraced 'is Manor. An' 'ee was concerned, not for his
own well being you understand [and who would dare to think otherwise] but for
that of his wife and daughter. "They've got their own law", Jim
informed me "an' 'ee knows 'ow they operate, they've made vanish with pain
an art form". But John had connections within connections, clans within
tribes, and things was getting out of hand so a meet had to be arranged so
"fings could be saw-ted out to everybody's satisfaction loike". And so
fings were.
The Chief Dark Angel of the
local Chapter was a (well respected) dude called 'Enery Costello, also a sharp
dresser of the modern sartorial mode, the new business face of the organisation.
Henry had just a bit of form and warrants had been issued in the metropolis and
so he had relocated incognito to the provinces. At the time of John's misdemeanour, Kent in business terms was relatively low key in traditional
arenas, prostitution, extortion etc. but was front end for the burgeoning
enterprise of smuggling ( people, vehicles, drugs, exotic species of fauna and
flora, and other wholesale initiatives ). It was busy and the authorities were
not yet onto the Angels' hat into the ring. John had not had the pleasure of a
formal introduction, as yet, to 'Enery but according to Jim 'ee respected 'is turf. In fact John would have not pissed within an acre of his paddock had
his sensibilities been intact on the day.
'Enery's lineage was
Italian, and so John, a thoughtful and enterprising operator, had endeavored to
suss what might have been an Achilles heel. God 'ee 'ad to 'av something,
so what moves an Italian? Sex - well there were a lot of Kentish ladies
wanting gratification from the Italian stallion, or so word had it. Religion? A
bit tricky given that John was C of E with very tenuous connections ......Music?
Oh yeah he thought, I'll strike up an aria - Placido Nokes - once I get me
tonsils oiled, haRdly. Food? Cook 'im
up a couple of me dad's porky greasies? Nah......Wait a minute - what about
that recipe we 'ad in Tenerife?
'Enery had checked John's
form, as you do - well established
local family, family butcher, businessman brother high in the soccer hierarchy,
John himself was respected as a musician and a sorter on the Manor although
somewhat latent until this kerfuffle 'appened. Now, 'Enery was mindful of
agitating the populace by kicking the ant's nest with a foreign boot, worse
still attracting Plod's attention to the operation. In deference to John's
local standing he came alone to the meet, one on one, respect and sort of
gentleman's understanding, dark Italian suit, stiletto hidden, jewelry, flashes
of honour and still more respect. John also wore his suit, modern cut with room
for a tool or two, flashes of the old bovver and street nowce with new age
sensibility.
Neutral territory was John's
suggestion, the Horse and Bog at Sandwich, a classy pub where it happened his
lady was assistant chef (although he didn't mention it), and could bung on the
Tenerife special - whole turbot with accompanying clams, mussels, calamari and
scattered large shrimps [in OZ-prawns] cooked in the special tomato sauce; an
Eyetie would go bananas.
This particular 'Enery
Eyetie Costello was well moved by the aroma on entrance to the private cosy
dining room, in fact he blinked twice behind dark glasses as memories of his
mother, his grandmother, his sisters, in fact all the female members of his
famiglia, alive and dead entered his gut in one almighty nostalgic smack. "Cripes", he thought,
"what the fucka?" After all he was born in London.
Unfortunately had John not been so secretive with the plan he might have
discovered that 'Enery was allergic to seafood, all forms of it.
Nevertheless, the aroma had
worked it's magic and the ghosts of indulgent females pampered his senses.
Also, he knew John had staged the feast, he was leaning towards conciliation
anyway, and John knew that he knew. "I felt a right berk", John said later,
" 'im ordering wedgies and HP sauce and me scoffing me gizzards wif mussels,
clams and bloody turbot". Anyway all turned out for the best and as events
eventuated honour and respect were mutually maintained and nurtured.
'Enery empathised with
John's retelling of how his livelihood had been threatened, how he had a
family to look after, and how bass players of such calibre are hard to find, and
this particular bassist had been with him for some time, knew his stuff, not
only that but his reputation was compromised - if he had watched his colleague
get splattered all over the decor then it would amount to loss of respect within
the community loike, something he could ill afford, given his position.
'Enery replied that he couldn't see how John could have done
otherwise, in fact he himself would have done likewise, given the issues at
stake. He alluded to disciplinary action which may be taken on the offending
gorilla who had initiated the conflag and added confidentially that the silly
bastard was known to have a drinking problem, and had embarrassed the
organisation on one too many occasions.
These events in their later
retelling of course possibly emphasised certain aspects which, had the other
party been present, may have caused eyebrows to rise. But on the night they were
careful to dance the reels, as it were, while avoiding each other's bunions.
They explored unlimited common ground in their denouncement of Plod who had
perpetrated unreasonable perpetrations on their rights as upstanding citizens
under the Magna Charter. And John provided a candid grass roots perspective of
local personalities and innovative initiatives, adding that he himself was
living a spotless life despite the hounding of Plod. 'Enery could only concur.
And isn't it comfortable to
know that within each boundary there is order, that within each organisation,
tribe, clan and band there is order recurring, and that such order is maintained
and consummated at the dinner table. When the aroma of this magnificent dinner
wafts about you, think of the ghosts of mothers Mediterranean wrapping you in
the comfort of thousands of years of history, of order recurred. Think of their
sons who have achieved what they wished them to achieve, then think of the other
98% throughout the ages who didn't. Think of how modern sons are upholding
traditions, in cargo pants the size of tents. Think of mothers who, despite the
odds, continue to envelope their offspring with affection, hope, trust and
understanding, in varying portions, but their love is limitless within the
famiglia. And think of life's crazy waters, and how the family ship sails
through, sometimes with a favourable breeze, slicing a blue ocean, but more
often storm tossed, rogered and wrecked, with the taxman and Plod close behind
in their frigate.
And find shelter in this cove
and dine.
1 kilo fresh tomatoes, chopped
1.2 litres water
4 garlic cloves finely sliced
2 tbs parsley (continental)
1 teaspoon of roasted ground
cumin seeds
1 chilli pepper chopped -
seeds removed
3 tablespoons olive oil, extra
virgin
1 teaspoon salt
1.
Mix all ingredients in a large frying pan and bring
to a simmer.
2.
Cover and simmer for 45 mins
3.
Remove cover, increase heat and boil down to half
(this will concentrate flavours)
4.
Add fish etc. for required cooking time
Simple !! Now, as yer turbot
is not readily available in Pacific waters, I suggest you use fillets of baby
shark or ling, or steaks of swordfish, marlin or kingfish, in fact any fish will
be enhanced by this sauce, provided it is fresh. Don't overcook it. As a guide
if cooking baby shark, 4 mins each side at medium heat is sufficient - or
cover with sauce and cook for 8 minutes without turning. If using steaks of
marlin, swordies or kingies, then increase to 5 minutes each side, depending on
thickness. If adding calamari then
they require about 5 minutes all up. If cooking shell fish such as mussels or
pippies, then remove the cooked fish to a warm attractive plate and turn the
frying pan heat up, throw the shellies in, cover and cook for 4 to 5 minutes.
Pour sauce and shell fish over the cooked fish, sprinkle with finely
chopped parsley and dill and serve with Italian/Turkish or crusty loaf of bread.
.