BlackBook Magazine

Getting schooled on the art of whole-fish cooking.

By Katherine Faw Morris

Last weekend I decided to cook a whole bluefish. After scraping weirdness out of its belly, cramming it bent in half into the oven with a few garlic cloves, and waiting for-ever, what emerged was something that tasted pretty much like, well, chicken. That’s when it occurred to me, it’s kind of a challenge to make a tasty piscine. It ain’t exactly bacon—just throw it on the skillet and yum. There’s a real art behind a simple, lightly seasoned whole fish. Luckily, Sea Salt has recently arrived on the lower Second Ave. resto scene to learn me a few things.

A new venture from Sip Sak impresario Orhan Yegen, Sea Salt is a Turkish take on the wave of spruced-up fish shacks that first hit our shores via the West Village’s Pearl Oyster Bar. There are no little sacks of oyster crackers on the tables here though. This place is more about slick banquettes and polished butcher-block tables than rickety bench seats and faux sand between the toes. The smooth décor was designed by Asli Sarac, who might also be your waitress. With its gray and white striped walls and discreet white lighting, Sea Salt feels nothing if not clean—something I can appreciate in any food-serving establishment. Black and white photos by Turkey’s favorite flicker, Ara Guiler, are blown-up and printed on canvas, marking off each section of the wall with harbor scenes of 1950s Istanbul. It’s all very Mediterranean Sea. And even situated on a NYU-infested stretch of Second Avenue, the place is still managing to draw a sexy adult crowd ready to get down on some sea bass.

Chef Orhan Yegen, a.k.a. Poseidon, hasn’t exactly been shy about declaring himself the master of all sea life. I was way disappointed that the promised, not-so-secretly-off-the-menu baked whole fish (encrusted in sea salt, then drowned in cognac, and set ablaze tableside) was not yet ready for public consumption. But Yegen seems to be walking the walk. The menu checks off entrees like homemade seafood dumplings and half lobster stuffed with shrimp, scallop, and crabmeat. Of course, everybody’s here for the contender—head-on grilled whole fish. I opted for the dorado and the mullet, which came with another mullet friend.

An app of grilled octopus, pre-boiled and completely chewable, acted as an ample prelude. It came as one long, curly tentacle wrapped around a crisp red onion, roasted tomato, and mixed greens salad. But as expected, the “simply grilled daily fish selections” were where the party was at. The dorado—better known to Red Lobster vets as mahi-mahi or, confusingly, dolphin fish—was presented in a long fillet, salt rubbed and grilled, and laid out with red onions and a hunk of lemon. It had a creamy, decadent, this-could-be-bad-for-you taste that won me over after the first bite.

The smaller mullets arrived in the same preparation—two fish, nicely orange, served side-by-side. I was surprised to see mullet on the menu, not only because I assumed I was safely outside the gates of Billysburg, but also because I know it chiefly as the fishy fish you get down South in a fish fry. But apparently this is red mullet, not black, the flesh quite a bit tangier and less dry than the finger fish fillets dished out behind my Granddaddy’s auto repair shop. Maybe not quite as addictive as those fillets, but at least Sea Salt’s take might have me thinking about seeing the other side of 65.

Super-whipped mashed potatoes and dill-spiked sautéed spinach did their sides thing, and a simple dessert of custard-like almond pudding with nutmeg and a bowl of fresh fruit ended the meal on a “think thin” note. Of course, in the end, it was really about the fish—whole, pure, only slightly punched up with salt and lemon, and wonderfully simple. Unlike some other foodie faves—ahem, pork belly—fish is non-fatty smart food. Skinny and brainy—try to step to that.

99 Second Ave. (5th and 6th Sts.) seasaltrestaurant.net 212-979-5400
East Village