(SE) (μg)
(RETINOL) (μg)
So established and ubiquitous is the carp across sections of Europe, the Near East and Asia that it is durably woven into rituals and representations. In much of central Europe, but especially in landlocked Czechia and Slovakia, carp is the centrepiece of the Christmas meal. In Poland and Romania, which despite long stretches of coastline lean inland cuisine-wise, carp, an eminently freshwater animal, is the default fish. For Poles who go by the book, it is one of 12 prescribed Christmas courses, slotted between barszcz, a wine-red beetroot soup, and plump pierogi stuffed with cabbage and mushrooms. Most Romanians cleave to pork for their Christmas indulgence. But until diets diversified in the post-communist era, they would eat carp at any time of year, done any which way: baked, breaded and fried, in aspic or in saramură – a briny broth flavoured with laurel, garlic, black peppercorns and roast capsicums, to which the separately grilled fish is added before the lot is served over steaming boiled cornmeal.
There seems to be, in fact, a carp curtain dividing the world, its contours determined by both cultural and wealth factors. This generally economical fish has poor traction with western European palates, drawn to maritime more than riverine flavours: carp tastes of lakes and ponds, of the Danube, of the great waterways of Ukraine and the Eurasian landmass. In North America, carp is virtually unknown as a food fish, and frequently considered a pest. Conversely, the further east you travel, the higher carp’s status and the stronger the demand. More carp is farmed in Asia – millions of tonnes – than any other fish. In China, carp is a restaurant staple, served sizzling with soy sauce, ginger and green onions, or else bubbling in a fiery Sichuan-style hotpot. The larger “bighead carp” (Hypophthalmichthys nobilis) is the most prized species among Chinese diners, and the animal’s head, intuitively enough, the most sought-after part.
As well as much eaten, the carp is much depicted. Chinese art brims with exquisite scenes of ornamental carp leaping high over the water surface, in an allegory of strength and resilience, or swimming in pairs to symbolize harmony. Regional folklore assumes a continuum between the carp and the dragon: by vaulting over a gate, the former is able to morph into the latter, connoting a valiant dash for excellence. The image was historically a proxy for success in China’s civil service exams; to this day, carp emoji are shared there as a digital good luck wish.
The Amur carp (Cyprinus rubrofuscus) in particular has been aesthetically cherished for over a millennium in China, and bred commercially for colour mutations since around 1920 in Japan. Even so, carp’s positive associations in both nations are in no small part due to phonetics. Both the Chinese and Japanese language lend themselves to punning and homophony. In Chinese, the word for “carp” (and fish in general) sounds much like the word for “abundance”, yù. In Japanese, “carp” and “love” are rendered identically as koi.
Now, red koi may please the eye and silver carp jump high, but most species could hardly be seen as reaching for the sublime. The common carp is a placid bottom feeder, using its toothless mouth to suck nutrients from the floor of river, pond and lake. This roiling and muddying of the waters, technically known as turbidity, can disrupt other forms of aquatic life: it has led to vigorous attempts to eliminate carp from river systems, such as those of the United States of America, where they are non-native. These days, in fact, most carp will come from aquaculture – and that’s where, ideally, yours should come from, unless you’ve fished it yourself.
There’s frankly a lot to like about carp. The flesh is white, firm to flaky, and one of the best sources of essential fatty acids and fat-soluble vitamins – A, E and D. Carp live long and reproduce with gusto, which makes farming them an excellent way to improve food security and incomes in one neat package. In Madagascar, one of the world’s least developed countries, FAO promotes the breeding of carp in rice paddies. On top of saving farmland, this boosts the yields of the plant and provides a good habitat for the fish.
Overall, though, African production is heavily concentrated on the continent’s eastern Mediterranean fringes, in Egypt. In most of sub-Saharan Africa, local alternatives prevail. They include the central African mboto (Distichodus antonii), which you’ll find in our recipe selection. Also known as yellow-fleshed carp, mboto is not technically that, but comes close in both flavour and social function: where incomes are lower and access to protein more precarious, mboto, like carp, is a nutritional friend in need.
There is little fraud or mislabelling to fear when buying common carp. The fish is both inexpensive and – since it’s overwhelmingly bought whole – pretty unmistakable with its round, thick-lipped mouth: it sits on the head like the end bit of a balloon. A regular, grey-brown lattice pattern marks the body from gills to tail. (The fact that carp is seldom sold pre-cut further explains its near absence from the US market, where fish fillets dominate.) You will most likely come across carp measuring 30–60 centimetres, which makes this a flexible option in terms of the numbers you can feed. The scales are thick: have your fish cleaned well and watch out for small bones. Carp is sometimes described as tasting “muddy,” but this is extrapolated from its bottom-dwelling behaviour. The flavour is decidedly robust. Rub the fish with lemon and remove the darker parts to lessen it. Any remaining unpleasant taste is largely down to histamines, a stress response to rising body temperatures if the carp isn’t iced straight after harvesting. This brings us to the key point: carp must be achingly fresh. In central Europe, it was common until recently for the fish to be bought live and kept swimming in the family bathtub until ready to cook. You needn’t go to such lengths, clearly. But if you’re buying carp for dinner, best make sure the fish was still alive while you were having breakfast.
I’m highly adaptable and I mature quickly. Clearly, a little warmth helps: in subtropical and tropical areas, I can grow twice as fast as in temperate zones. But also, you can grow me in a pond with other species. Chances are, I’ll do fine. And everyone will do better, in fact.
But that’s nonsense. As I rummage in there, I aerate the pond for everyone else. And I help control the algal biomass. Trust me, everyone does well out of it. Production is higher per unit area than in monocultures. Clearly, you have to do it right, but I trust FAO with this sort of thing: they’ve honed it quite well and have spread that knowledge around a great many projects.
What about the notion that you taste muddy?Inaccurate and insulting – if I’m fresh and iced properly.
Correct. The idea is that in an undrainable pond, you mix and match species from (forgive me if I get a bit technical here) different trophic and spatial niches. You have various natural fish food organisms – phytoplankton, zooplankton, detritus, plus the fish manure – at different strata of the pond water column, as well as at the bottom, where I tend to feed.
I have a sweet tooth. In Eastern Europe, where people used to keep me swimming in tubs until it was time to... you know...
Yes?Well, children would sometimes sprinkle a little sugar on the water surface for me. Christmas is for everyone.