I love playing with masa, and I’ve made lots of shapes from masa dough like tlacoyos, gorditas, and various tortillas. So, I was excited to try the sopes which were similar in shape to gorditas. Masa harina was mixed with water to form the simple dough that was divided into ping pong ball size pieces before being shaped into rounds with a cupped top. The sopes were then fried in oil and left to drain. The salsa was made by reconstituting dried ancho, guajillo, and pasilla chiles. The softened chiles along with chiles de arbol, chopped fresh tomato, onion, lots of garlic, olive oil, orange juice, lime juice, achiote seeds, cumin, oregano, and salt were pureed in the blender. There’s a surprising amount of salt in this salsa at one and a half tablespoons, but this is the correct amount. The sopes are not seasoned at all. They are simple masa vehicles for all the flavor of the filling. So, the aggressive seasoning of the salsa is balanced. For this version of sopes, a firm-fleshed fish was to be cut into small cubes and cooked in oil. I used halibut. After the fish was cooked, the salsa was added and reduced a bit. The fish and sauce mixture was spooned into the sopes and topped with a crumbly, salty cheese and purslane leaves. Queso fresco would ordinarily be used, but ricotta salata is also suggested depending on what you can get that is better quality. I used a locally-made goat feta.
Little, crispy masa cakes will be addictive with just about any filing, but this adobo-sauced fish version was a big winner. I use a lot of purslane while I can get it at a local farm stand in the summer. So, I was thrilled to see it as a suggested topping. Cilantro or finely chopped lettuce would work well too. For the salsa, I’ll be doubling the recipe from now on and stocking my freezer with it. It was great in tacos, for dipping chips and vegetables, and especially on huevos rancheros. Next, a soup and a couple of the desserts are on my to-try list.
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Now for the fun part. The halibut was seasoned, dusted with flour with Madras curry powder in it, dunked into a beaten egg, and coated with the mixed together shredded collards and katafi. Each fillet was lowered into 350 degree F vegetable oil to cook for 30 seconds. Based on the photo in the book, I realized that a good depth of oil would be necessary for the frizzy coating to float upwards from the fish inside it. So, I used a two and a half quart saucepan with straight sides. It’s necessary to fry one fillet at a time, so a smaller pan uses less oil and fits one piece fine. Using a metal, slotted spoon, a fillet was lowered into the oil and held down below the surface with the handle of a wooden spoon. This was a little scary because the oil bubbled up and spattered a lot due to the water content in the fish and greens. I was sure I was going to burn the house down, but I was also sure it was worth it. It was fine. There was no grease fire, and the oil calmed down before the 30 seconds had elapsed. After frying, each fillet was drained on paper towels and then placed in a 300 degree F oven for 10 minutes. Only 30 seconds in the oil and only 10 minutes in a warm oven made me a nervous nelly for a second time.

I can say with certainty that the flavors of this dish were as good as I’d imagined when I first saw it in the magazine. The two uses of tarragon or M.m.m. worked fine. The anise was subtle and married nicely with the freshness of the tomatoes and richness of the browned butter. The herb rub on the halibut became a very good accent to the flavor of the fish itself and the smoke from the grill. I made the smashed fingerlings mentioned in the article as well, and they were great on the side. Also great was the light, California pinot noir with nice, balanced fruit whose name I can’t remember because we ended up with a different wine than the one from the article and I failed to write it down. The simple, flavorful sauce could be used on ravioli or gnocchi, and the tarragon could be replaced with thyme for variation. Or, I could happily sit down to a plate of burst-open tiny tomatoes in herbed browned butter and a hunk of bread.

