Pomfret (Bramidae family) fall into some 20 species – though the common name may further include, or overlap with, an array of closely related butterfish. Distributed around the world’s oceans, and as far north as Norwegian waters, these are highly migratory fish that tend to favour small schools. They’re flat in shape and light silver to black in colour. Seen in profile, a pomfret’s body is a near-perfect oval, which an aerodynamic set of fins may turn, in some species at least, into a near-perfect lozenge. This rather appealing geometry is spoiled somewhat by the mouth, a deep gash into the front of the animal that gives it a half-perplexed, half-irate expression.
Widely distributed though they are, the popularity of pomfret varies greatly with the region. In Europe, the fish is little known, despite a fair presence in the Mediterranean. In FAO’s Italian homeland, supplies are erratic at best, and the pesce castagna, or “chestnut fish”, absent from restaurant menus. One local fish inspector testifies to the mix of obscurity and meagre esteem afflicting the fish. Even when available, the colour of pomfret (which tends to darken post-capture) puts people off, he says. Retail prices are accordingly modest. Unjustifiably so, our inspector adds: “Do get the pesce castagna if you find it fresh. Those fillets will land you with a couple of juicy, high-quality fish steaks.”
Pomfret flesh is indeed delightfully textured, semi-springy and sweet, on top of being low in calories and rich in iron and phosphorus. It grills spectacularly. And if Italians and other Europeans are largely resistant to pomfret’s appeal, the fish is much enjoyed in South Asia, and along Atlantic and Pacific seaboards. Reassuringly, pomfret is listed as “of least concern the lowest-risk category – though this status conceals uneven set-ups. The Atlantic variety (Brama Brama) is generally plentiful. By contrast, the silver pomfret (Pampus argenteus) is in high demand on the subcontinent under the name of butterfish, so is becoming scarcer and dearer. The People’s Archive of Rural India, an online journal and archive, has movingly documented the shrinking of the pomfret around Mumbai and its social fallout: here, a combination of pollution, mangrove clearance and overfishing is forcing the fish ever further from shore. Meanwhile, global warming is speeding up pomfret’s biological clock, causing early maturity and reduced size.
So eat pomfret, by all means: it would be a shame not to. But if you’re conservation-minded, you might wish to up your intake in those parts of the world where pomfret is unjustly overlooked, and moderate it where the fish could do with a break.
Pomfret offered for sale will rarely exceed 40 centimetres (up to a rare maximum of 60), and may sometimes be found at half that size. Because of these dimensions, it’s generally sold whole, perfect for grilling or baking. If you fancy barbecuing your pomfret using a long-handled fish rack, you could snip off the fins and tail, then sever the head in a straight line, vertically across the fish, just past the eye. Indian cooks will sometimes slide the blade transversally under the eye and towards the mouth on either side, removing the head in the form of two orbital slices. Alternatively, when preparing a “curry cut,” they may keep the head, with just the eyeballs taken off. When this is done, get rid of the crimson gills, then make deep parallel incisions down the side of the fish, running from back to belly, so that your pomfret looks like a perforated pouch: this will allow you to slide a couple of fingers in and pull out (and discard) the stomach lining. Wash the fish, then smear it inside and out with a tandoori sauce of yoghurt mixed with salt, shredded ginger, crushed garlic, chilli, garam masala, lemon juice and powdered turmeric before you place it on the barbecue: the pomfret should come out enticingly charred, red-orange streaked with black. Or follow our featured recipe, which uses the fillets of the fish in a wetter, wine-spiked, all-in seafood extravanganza.
I wasn’t sure what you wanted from me. Why am I here?
Did you mention monchong?
No, what is that?It’s what they call me in Hawaii. They like to serve me in tacos, or with a papaya salad. And you know, they like pineapple with things there. So I’ve wound up in that scenario too.
But why? I’m small. I’m not particularly handsome. They don’t like me much in Europe: they’ve even said I look like a chestnut. I only tend to appear at the market when I turn up as bycatch. It’s not that nice, being an “incidental” fish, you know.
I don’t think being likened to a chestnut is really that derogatory. But I do agree that you deserve to be better known in parts of the world.It’s kind of you to say so. You’re writing a book, I hear? Give me a good write-up.
Oh? Well, there are worse ways to go down in history. A marine greeting to any readers there!
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