Salmon en Croute -- The Abuses of Power

by Libby

Francoeur cut through the puff pastry of his salmon en croute and saw the flaky pink fish, with watercress on top. Lemon and tarragon butter dripped out of the pastry. (How the Light Gets In, Kindle, p. 258)

Sylvain Francoeur is dining with a companion whose identity is not revealed. It is someone in a position of power to whom Francoeur reports, and who is even more dangerous. I can remember thinking how wrong it seemed that such fine food, so evocatively described, should be savoured by such odious characters. The fine food and fine dining experience contrasts starkly with the corrupt and sinister air surrounding the two diners.

In the brief snapshot of this meal we learn that the two men are anticipating the culmination of a conspiracy hatched thirty years earlier. Any possible threat to their ambitions is ruthlessly and cold-bloodedly dispensed with. The demise of Armand Gamache is a necessary event.

They eat their fine food in a fine restaurant and lead their lives, with rottenness at the core, a long, slow ruthless pursuit of power, at any cost, leaving a staggering trail of death and destruction. We learn later that the separation of Québec from Canada is the intended result. It exemplifies where greed for power or money, or opportunity at the expense of others has no limits. There are no morals, only expedience. These are people already with considerable power, whose frightening ambition for more has no boundaries. At their core is a moral vacuum.

It's not hard to extrapolate some of this to the behaviour of individuals, groups, corporations and governments that will do almost anything to shore up power, wealth and vested interests; protect or advance their ambitions, meet their targets and bottom lines, behave corruptly, exploit others and often the people and the environments that they should be serving or protecting. Certain interests and groups are served at the expense of others and ethical arguments about rights and responsibilities are of little consideration.

We see it in individuals who are intoxicated by power and wealth, who take what they want with an unerring belief in entitlement, and need for self-aggrandisement. It robs them of any real sense of fairness, empathy and generosity, leaving them to pay only lip service to the fact that others exist, with perhaps less fortunate lives than they. We see it in the way power and wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few at the expense of many, a wealth divide that continues to increase alarmingly.

How the Light Gets In is a study of two types of leaders whose power and influence is in marked contrast. Francoeur and Renard, the Premier of Québec, wield power with no moral or ethical considerations, no constraints to their intended goal. They do what they do because they can get away with it.

Contrasted with this is a man of conscience, Armand Gamache, whose moral duty to those he serves is at the heart of him. His clarity of purpose, his moral compass makes him nothing but tenacious in finding and dealing with the Sûreté's rotten core. But even he is overwhelmed at how brutally deep it festers.

He believed that light would banish the shadows. That kindness was more powerful than cruelty, and that goodness existed, even in the most desperate places. He believed that evil had its limits. ... Chief Inspector Gamache wondered if he could have been wrong all this time. Maybe the darkness sometimes won. Maybe evil had no limits. (How the Light Gets In, Kindle, p. 271)

We wonder at Francoeur and Renard. How could they abuse their power so completely, corrupt the very instrument in place to protect communities over all Québec through law enforcement, the Sûreté, with no moral conscience? 

Abraham Lincoln said:

“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

Well it seems that power is freeing.

'What power does is that it liberates the true self to emerge. ... More of us walk around with kinds of social norms; we work in groups that exert all pressures on us to conform. Once you get into a position of power, then you can be whoever you are.' (Joe Magee, power researcher and professor of management, New York University)

And it might unleash a beast.

In How the Light Gets In we are reminded of the power of those people of conscience with a moral sense and duty, a social responsibility, who are principled, who are community-minded, who don't just watch but are prepared to intervene, make sacrifices and take risks to defend and protect what they believe in, or those in whom they believe. Motivated by goodness. We have a snapshot of the Three Pine's community as they put aside their fears and band together to help Gamache, the Brunels and Yvette Nichol in their time of greatest need. Their moral fortitude is steadfast.

“Do you know what you’re offering?” Thérèse asked. “A safe place,” said Myrna. “Who doesn’t need that at least once in their lives?” “The people who’re looking for us don’t want a simple chat,” said Thérèse, holding Myrna’s eyes. “They don’t want to negotiate, they don’t even want to threaten us. They want to kill us. And they’ll kill you too, if we’re found in your home. There is no safe place, I’m afraid.” She needed Myrna to understand. Myrna stood before her, clearly frightened, but determined. ... “Armand wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t think we’d protect you. “But they’ll still come looking for us.” “We thought so.” “We?” Myrna turned to look at the road and Thérèse followed her glance. Standing on the snow-covered path were Clara, Gabri, Olivier, and Ruth and Rosa. (How the Light Gets In, Kindle, p.339-40)

Viet Thanh Nguyen the American Pulitzer Prize winning novelist (2016 prize for fiction for his debut novel, The Sympathiser) recently wrote about understanding 'the basic paradox at the heart of literature and philosophy'. 'Even as each of us is solitary as a reader or a writer, we are reminded of our shared humanity and our inhumanity.'

Could this not be more evident in Louise Penny's How the Light Gets In?

Salmon en Croute

 

This is rather a special occasion/festive dish, with wonderful contrasts of flavour and texture. It's seriously delicious! Fish baked in an envelope of light, buttery pastry and made succulent with a fragrant herb butter is something worth experiencing. Seriously, there are moments of rapture as it all comes together in a mouthful! And it is really worth making your own pastry, particularly as there are some shortcuts to a brilliant result. This recipe feeds four. And it's not as complicated as it might first seem. Lots can be done ahead of time, including making the pastry and herb butter. I hope my step-by-step descriptions are not too tedious. The photos are meant to be the key to it all!

- 600-700g/1lb5oz-1lb8oz of fresh Atlantic salmon, skinned and pin-boned (I get my fishmonger to do this)

- puff pastry

- watercress or spinach filling

- herb butter

- 1 egg, beaten, for egg wash

- sea salt

- cracked black pepper

Rough Puff Pastry

 

This pastry is an easy, shortened version of conventional puff pastry, but I think the result is just as good. It's very easy to make and can be done a day or two ahead of time. It uses equal measures of flour and butter. It's best to work in a cool kitchen as you don't want the butter to melt into the flour as you work. That will reduce the puff and lightness of the pastry.

- 250g/9oz plain flour

- 250g/9oz unsalted cold butter, cut into small cubes

- 125 ml/4fl oz of ice cold water

- 1/2 tbsp fine sea salt

1.  Sieve the flour and salt into a mound on the bench or pastry mat and add the butter.

2.  Lightly work the butter into the flour using your finger tips, ensuring that the pieces of butter stay relatively large.

 

3.  Make a well, add the water and mix in with your hands, to bring all the ingredients together. The flecks of butter should still be obvious.

4.  Wrap in plastic film and chill in the fridge for 15-20 minutes.

5.  Lightly dust the surface with flour and roll out the dough into a rectangle (approx 40x25cm/15x10"). 

Dust with a little flour as you work to prevent sticking. You should still be able to see the pieces of butter in the rolled out dough.

6.  Fold over one end of the dough a third of the way. 

Fold over the other end of the dough on top of that. This is called the first turn.

7.  Turn the dough 90 degrees and then roll it out again into a rectangle (the same size as before) and fold it exactly as for the first turn. This is now the second turn.

8.  Wrap in plastic film and chill for 20-30 minutes.

9. Roll the dough again for two turns, repeating the process just as before. Rest in the fridge once again and then it is ready to use.

Watercress filling

 

This adds a nice succulence to the salmon en croute and cuts through the richness of the herb butter. If watercress is not available, baby spinach leaves are a good substitute.

- generous bunch of watercress, thicker stems discarded

- 2-3 spring onions, finely sliced

- clove of garlic, finely chopped

- unsalted butter

1.  Gently sauté the spring onion and garlic in a little unsalted butter until soft.

2.  Add the watercress and stir until wilted, but so it still has some crunch. Season very lightly with salt and cracked black pepper. 

3. Allow to cool and then place in a sieve and press on it to extract as much moisture as possible. This is an important step to ensure that the pastry doesn't get soggy from excess moisture. Set aside.

Herb butter

 

I used dill and basil, instead of tarragon, in this butter. They work beautifully with the lemon zest. And the addition of salty, fragrant capers and Dijon mustard lifts the flavours a notch. This butter would also be a nice addition to a piece of fried or poached fish.

- fresh dill, chopped

- fresh basil leaves,finely sliced

- fine zest from one lemon

- 1 tbsp of salted capers, soaked in water to remove the salt, drained and chopped

- 60g/2oz unsalted butter, at room temperature

- sea salt

- cracked black pepper

1.  Mash the butter with a spoon and stir in the lemon zest.

2. Add the dill, basil and capers.

3. Very lightly season with sea salt and cracked black pepper. 

4. Refrigerate if made ahead of time. Bring to room temperature before using.

Bringing it all together

 

1.  Place a baking sheet in the oven and preheat it to 220C/430F.




2.  Trim the piece of fish to an even rectangular shape.

3.  Spread the herb butter in a thick even layer on the upper side of the fish. Refrigerate.

4.  Dust the bench/pastry mat with flour and roll out the pastry into a rectangle of 3-4mm/ 1/8in thickness. 

Work quickly while the pastry is still cold.


5.  Spread the watercress mixture in the centre of the pastry.

6.  Place the herb butter side of the fish down on the watercress.


7. Trim the pastry to a size where it will fold over the fish and enclose it like a parcel.





8.  Fold the pastry tightly over the salmon, sealing it with egg wash where it meets.   

Repeat this with each end, trimming off any excess pastry.

9.  Place the salmon parcel, seam side down, on a length of baking parchment that will fit the baking sheet in the oven. 

At this stage if the pastry is getting quite sticky place the parcel in the fridge for 15 mins.





10.  Score the surface of the pastry with the back of a knife but don't cut through it. Brush the top, sides and ends with egg wash and sprinkle sea salt and cracked black pepper over it.

11.  Transfer the salmon en croute to the fridge on the baking/parchment paper and let it chill for at least 15 minutes, or longer if you've made it ahead of time.

12.  Place the parcel and the paper onto the hot oven tray straight from the fridge. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until the pastry is golden brown on both the top and the bottom.

13.  Remove from the oven and rest for 15 minutes. Slice into servings using a sharp serrated knife.

The salmon en croute is delicious served with a little salad that has simply been dressed with a squeeze of lemon juice and a grinding of black pepper. This is a nice foil to the rich, buttery flavours of the fish and pastry.