Brow arched, mouth sloping glumly at the edges, snappers (Lutijanidae) seem to go through their long life – as long as 80 years, new research suggests – in a state of reproachful irritation. This impressive life expectancy is, of course, largely theoretical: carnivorous and sharp-toothed as they may be, snappers are some way off the top of the food chain. They are much liked, in fact, by sharks, barracudas and humans.
Of the over 100 species distributed around the world’s tropical and subtropical areas, the most sought-after is the red snapper (Lutjanus campechanus). The fish is at its densest in the reef-rich waters of the western Atlantic, chiefly in the Gulf of Mexico.
Red snapper is both succulent and, in its bright red livery, supremely photogenic. The flesh is firm, protein-rich, and low on sodium and saturated fat. The flavour – mellow, vaguely nutty, barely piscine – has quasi-universal appeal, including with children and fish-sceptics. Some US restaurant menus end up offering red snapper at USD 40 per fillet, in turn creating an incentive for poaching in neighbouring countries. But while overfishing is rife in some areas, vigorous regulation on the Gulf’s northern rim has helped populations rebound since the early 2000s. At the time of writing, the US commercial season is limited to six months a year, and the recreational season to just three days.
There’s more good news: in 2021, a multiyear study commissioned by the US Congress tripled previous estimates of red snapper abundance. Led by the Harte Research Institute, a body that monitors the Gulf of Mexico’s ecosystem, the “Great Red Snapper Count” involved a new mix of tagging, direct visual counts, habitat classification, advanced camera work and hydroacoustic surveys: it concluded there we well over 100 million red snappers, vast numbers of them loafing happily around the Gulf’s unmapped bottom habitats. (Earlier numbers had been extrapolated from biomass estimates.)
Red snappers will easily grow to 1 metre long – but are also commonly (and legally) fished in early adulthood, coming in at 38–40 centimetres. This means, rather gratifyingly, that a smaller exemplar will fit inside a family oven, while a larger one may feed a banquet.
And now, to cooking. Red snapper catches the eye, so it pays to leave the skin on. For a dramatic effect, take a black slate platter and dust it with ground pistachio. Separately, put a courgette through a spiralizer or meat grinder. Dress the resulting courgette vermicelli with olive oil, then season it with salt, pepper, a quarter teaspoon of sweet paprika and a pinch of cinnamon. Place it on cling film in a thick sausage shape, wrap the cling film around it and roll it further into a smooth tight cylinder. Freeze this courgette cylinder for 15 minutes or so to harden it, then take it out, strip off the cling film and cut a 5-cm-long section, ensuring plane surfaces at both ends. Stand the courgette cylinder at one end of your black platter.
Move on to the fish: grill a red snapper fillet, scoring and crisping the skin but keeping the fish moist below. Stack the fillet carefully on top of the courgette cylinder, skin side up. For a final touch, soak a couple of whole pistachio nuts in lemon juice and dry-fry them for a few seconds, then place them on top of the fish.
Or give yourself a break from the visual acrobatics and follow one of the homelier, but equally satisfying recipes in this chapter. Either way, make sure you read the next section to avoid getting scammed: red snapper is among the most faked and mislabelled seafood on the planet.
Depending on surveys and sampling locations, a third to near-100 percent of what is sold as red snapper may not be that. The highest mislabelling rates have been associated with sushi restaurants, where the fish on your plate is least identifiable. This needn’t cause a headache if what you’re getting is a closely related, hardly distinguishable snapper species, of which there are a fair number – crimson, rose, vermillion or yellowtail. (One of the two recipes listed here originates from Baja California, home to the Pacific snapper: this species sports slightly different genetics despite similar chromatics.) But mislabelling does become a major problem – and potentially a criminal one – when what you’re getting is, say, tilapia, a farmed, mostly freshwater fish of far lesser commercial value. To minimize the risk of snapper swap, don’t buy anything that hasn’t got its skin on. This really is a case of judging a fish by its cover. True, there’s a definite blush to the flesh of red snapper too, but not enough of it for a clear call. The proof lies squarely on the outside: the skin should at the very least be a distinct pink, and often (especially along the dorsal fin) a pomegranate-hued blaze. If buying the fish whole, also inspect the eye. It too should be bright red. Red too, the tailfin, which is moreover slightly forked – unlike tilapia’s greyish, brush-like one. Finally, should you come across red snapper enthusiastically advertised as “fresh off the dock,” pull out your phone and run a search for the local legal fishing season. None of this is fail-safe, of course. But a minimum of due diligence helps.
Do I steal the show?
Most definitely.Thanks. And thank you for inviting me.
Yes, ciguatera comes from a certain type of algae, present in tropical and subtropical waters. Unfortunately, no, you can’t spot it: it doesn’t alter the aspect of the fish. And I’m not talking just about myself – it can also affect barracuda, grouper and others. But I need to point out that while the incidence of ciguatera is not negligible, symptoms tend to pass with antihistamines. There were five US deaths altogether in the whole of 2020, so we should put the whole thing into perspective.
How much do you know? And what do you wish to know?
Yes. I always knew it, of course. I just didn’t want you humans to get too comfortable.
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