Talapia With Tomatoes and Leeks

Yes, it was back in Toulouse, I remember now, that we would stroll the Victor Hugo Market on a friday night in search of our Sunday fish.  We would never buy at night, of course, but it was then that we would ask the questions of the vendors as to what they might be bringing to market early the next morning.  One man, I remember him well, an Andalusian originally, said that it was he himself,

beginning on thursday morning at rooster call, who would take to the wild blue sea on his dinghy with two small nets to catch only enough Talapia that he could keep cold all the way to market the

next morning.  Once there, his wife sat in the back of their rented kiosk tending to their 'school,' as he called them affectionately as if they were family to the point of giving each of them names.  It gave us a new perspective on such fish, I can tell you this.  It was this man who pulled me aside one morning and with sweet smoky breath said that in his own homeland his aunt prepared the fish with tomatoes and leeks.  You must dice the leeks, she said, thin but not too thin so that they covered the bottom of her favorite baking dish.

Sea salt and the crunch of peppercorn over the oiled leeks to roast over an open fire for two handfuls of minutes.  She said the seagulls circling the crested islands miles offshore would smell the leeks they were so sweetly earthly but luckily flock too late for the serving.  I cannot fully remember the witches brew of seasonings over the fish that she suggested but we covered our filets with crushed garlic and thyme and more oil off of the local branches.  Add cherry tomatoes then the filets for another two handfuls of minutes. Soon after the Talapia would begin to dance again.