I eat fish on Fridays.
I don’t go to church (except on Christmas, Easter, or if for some reason I’m feeling particularly devout). I don’t say evening prayers. I don’t go to confession, wear a promise ring or deserve to wear white on my wedding (I will anyway).
I was born and raised an Irish-Italian-American Catholic which, for many of us, means nothing more than getting together for 13 fishes on Christmas Eve, even more food on Christmas day, and one more time for the cheap seats in the back at Easter.
That’s it.
No fasting on Ash Wednesday or going to Church on First Friday or giving up flour and eggs and sugar for Lent, although it’s never stopped me from celebrating Fat Tuesday with relish (and pancakes).
And yet, I eat fish on Fridays.
It wasn’t really a conscious decision… not at first, anyway. I don’t recall my mother ever doing it, but I know that fish was served on Fridays in the dining hall at my boarding school. It just sort of snuck in through the back of my mind, the same place where I keep the Pledge of Allegiance, the Hail Mary and the numbers 1-10 in a variety of languages from German to Korean. It snuck out without letting me know and integrated itself into my life before I even noticed.
As I started to accumulate recipes and cooking knowledge, as I started to piece together menus from new recipes I wanted to try and old recipes I wanted to recreate, here and there, a fish or seafood recipe would sneak in, and somehow, my mind would automatically stick it in on a Friday–not for any religious reason, but just because it seemed right: fish on Fridays.
I still do some form of fish or seafood on most Fridays, and if it’s not fish or seafood, it’s usually vegetarian. I like to get in the health benefits of these foods, and if I make sure to stick a seafood recipe in on Friday, I know I’m getting them in at least once a week. I guess it’s one of those inexplainable things now: I don’t really think the devil is looking over my left shoulder when I spill salt, but I toss some over, just in case. I don’t know why I kiss my fingers and then touch the roof of my car when I drive under a yellow light, why I snap if someone says “thank you” as a response to “God bless you” after a sneeze. I do it and don’t think about it, and I think I like it that way.
This recipe was an idea I got from Well Fed which I then riffed on: she calls for cooking the shrimp with rosemary and lemon, which I’m sure is lovely, but I get 5 euro pre-cooked shrimp at my market, and so I just tossed them with the pesto and threw the whole thing in a skillet just long enough to warm through. It’s a great spring recipe, with tons of fresh mint and fresh spring peas, both of which I picked up at my local market.
If you get the shrimp with heads and tails on, you can make a lovely shrimp broth to use as the liquid when making the risotto. Otherwise, chicken broth or veggie broth are fine.
Shrimp with Mint Pesto and Sweet Pea Risotto (adapted from Well Fed)
24 large, cooked shrimp, peeled, deveined, tails removed
1/2 cup pine nuts, toasted
3 garlic cloves, peeled
2 tablespoons (packed) feta cheese
2 tablespoons (packed) Parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 cups (packed) fresh mint leaves
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups fresh peas, cooked
8 cups stock, heated
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1/4 cup finely chopped shallots
2 cups Arborio rice
1 cup dry white wine
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons butter, room temperature
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
Set aside the cooked shrimp, and take the shells and tails and place them into a pot of water. Bring to a simmer and then allow to cook, skimming off any residue from the top of the pot, as you prepare the rest of the dish.
Combine all the ingredients from the pine nuts to the lemon juice with a mortar and pestle. Stream in the olive oil and stir until combined. (Note: The pesto, when left to sit, starts to discolor. This does not change the taste, but if you would like a brighter green, store the pesto with a layer of olive oil over the top.)
Purée 1 cup peas with 1/3 cup of the stock and set aside. Heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the shallots and a pinch of salt. Cook until soft, 2-3 minutes, and then add the rice. Cook until translucent, an additional 2-3 minutes, stirring to make sure that nothing burns. Pour in the glass of wine and allow the liquid to cook out, stirring all the while.
Add stock by the half-cupful, stirring until each addition is absorbed. When the rice is al dente (still firm), turn off the heat and cover.
Combine the shrimp with the reserved pesto and heat in a skillet, stirring frequently, until just heated through (no more than 2 minutes.) Meanwhile, add the pea puree, peas, butter and parmesan to the risotto and stir until everything is combined (the residual heat should help it achieve the proper consistency.
To serve, plate a portion of risotto in a wide, shallow bowl and place some shrimp and pesto on top. Serve with sprigs of mint and additional parmesan cheese for sprinkling, if desired.
This looks so tasty!
I love the colour contrast and I’ve had a mint pesto…must try it out on shrimp.