Love & Scallops

Perhaps nothing says “love!” quite like scallops: they’re a little bit expensive, require delicate handling, and lend an air of occasion to almost any meal.  As I contemplated this year’s Valentine menu, I kept returning to dishes that contain scallops.  Scallop ceviche, scallop risotto, scallops en brochette, scallops wrapped in proscuitto – I even considered scalloped potatoes apparently on word association alone, but it got nixed as too weekday a dish for a romantic dinner. 

Nothing red or pink or heart-shaped.  Nothing so obvious.  The subtlety of tortellini – modeled after the navel of Venus – appeals to me, but I haven’t ever tried making my own filled pasta.  While it is on the ever-growing list of things to get around to, this might not be the place to risk potentially tough little bullets of doughy indigestion. 

Remembering Rob Feenie’s wonderful lemon and mint risotto, garnished with seared scallops and prawns, from the Lumière Tasting Bar, I toyed with the idea of recreating it, but felt wary of living up to the exquisite balance of flavours I recalled (the secret of the non-bitter, non-acidic lemon flavour is apparently minced preserved lemon rather than zest or juice).  Risotto wasn’t totally out of the question, but it would have to be a different one. 

Ceviche was definitely an early favourite front-runner.  Simple, made with few ingredients readily at hand, and a flavour-favourite for both of us.  However, a scallop ceviche would only be an opening act, and the question of what to follow it with remained daunting.  Light, clean-palate food was required, yet a certain richness would provide tantalizing atmosphere.   

The entire meal shouldn’t be too rich, if for no other reason than that it would be sad to spend the remainder of the evening lying around in a groaning digestive stupor.  In addition, with both of us moderately concerned about the relative healthiness of our meals these days, I want to choose astutely where to indulge.  Angel hair pasta was rejected as too predictable.  Ideally, I’d like something silky, to offset the crisp freshness of the ceviche.  Risotto just won’t go away, will it?   Where else would I find creaminess that doesn’t necessarily contain huge amounts of cream? 

Putting aside the memory of the Lumière risotto, it seems that I should be able to create a risotto that has scallops as an integral part, rather than as garnish.  Perhaps if they were quickly sautéed with shallots, then removed from the dish until the final few moments of cooking?  They should retain their texture and glistening appearance – and they would be huge, ungainly millstones unless I sacrifice the wonderful bay scallops that I can so easily get for the tougher, dryer sea scallops.  Unless I quarter them.  Maybe save a couple to sear as garnish. 

There is still the other flavour considerations to deliberate over.  A combination of scallops and prawns would give me the much needed prawn shells with which to make a suitable stock, but beyond that is a vast canvas of rice to contend with.  Shallots are a no-brainer, but garlic might be a little too assertive for a delicate dish.  While initially veering away from Asian flavours such as ginger and cilantro, I have to admit that a discreet amount of Thai red curry paste rounding out the stock is a tempting solution to creating a connection between the lime juice of the ceviche and the creamy, more European main course.  A small quantity of coconut milk could replace the traditional parmesan and parmesan finish, stirred in at the end to create a comparable richness.  Single frond of cilantro garnish?  Or, a long red chile sliced into a flowerlike curlicue, as I plunge head first into the realm of culinary sequins; the seared scallops should be garnish enough. 

Lemon and basil sorbet would be a fantastic finish, but I lack an ice-cream maker and lemon-basil granita doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.  Something airy would be ideal, especially if the sugar could be controlled.  Ricotta and lemon cheesecake?  Pavlova?  My favourite purveyors of yoghurt have discontinued their lemon flavour, which has left me scrambling in the dark to find a replacement for the thick sauce that I used to make by draining it for a couple of hours and then whisking with lemon zest and a little vanilla.  Perhaps an acceptable substitute could be made with vanilla yoghurt and judicious application of limoncello liqueur… clearly, I needed to experiment surreptitiously.

Nothing says love like scallops.  Except, perhaps, agonizing over what to serve. 

February 2004