September 7, 2007, Prehistoric fish recipe, By Jeremy Goodwin

With the internet allowing easy access to information, one might assume that the reference book is fading into obsolescence and that the cookbook is particularly vulnerable.

A further complication is the common requirement that a published recipe should note the origin or first appearance in print.

When researching dishes on the internet, I often come across the names of notable chefs who claim credit for inventing a dish and am amazed at their audacity.

Even greater claims are made about the originality and authenticity, despite the fact that they are usually just prettying up a platter that has been served for hundreds and in some cases, thousands of years.

I admit they often add a new twist to an old classic, but can they justify their claim of invention and more recently, intellectual property rights? What minimum changes to a recipe are necessary before it is truly original?

Taken to the impossible extreme, a chef who publishes a recipe for charcoal -grilled rabbit really should pay homage to the first hominid who stuck a stick through the day’s catch and held it over a fire.

In the process of writing my first cookbook with my own original recipes, some of which have been published in this column, my editor keeps insisting that I provide attributions. It is a contentious subject between us, particularly when some chef in an overpriced see-and-be-seen franchise claims as his property something I learned 30 years ago from a peasant woman living in a village with no electricity.

Occasionally I do borrow ideas from the kitchen of a great restaurant, and try first to duplicate and later improve on the idea. If I cannot get a good grasp on the preparation methods of what appears at the table, from simply looking, smelling or tasting, I do not hesitate to grill the chef. Later I will skim through my collection of cookbooks and check a few of the better sites on the internet, seeking variations, origins and the evolutionary history. The results are often very surprising, like learning that the Arabs introduced rice to Spain, or that the first Bouillabaisse recipe is written in ancient Greek, and that this week’s recipe, in its simplest form, very possibly predates writing.

So, Chef Jose Andres, Alex Coxon, and all the rest of you supposed originators of this dish who add things like olive oil and herbs to the salt crust after removing the scales, here is the closest I can find to the original recipe and preparation techniques that may predate the last ice age. I have added a few modifiers for you to play with, but for an almost foolproof, low-attention dish with plenty of wiggle room, I cannot think of a better way to serve a low-oil fish.

Salt Crusted Fish for 4

Snapper yield about 50% after gutting so judge your appetites and buy accordingly. Fresh fish is delightful when done this way, and does not need flavoring, but thyme or dill in the body cavity along with the lemons may impart a little flavor. Do not bother to scale the fish, as they keep the salt from penetrating the meat. I cut off the fins to reduce the amount of salt needed, but it is not required.

Make sure that you remove the gills.

1 Whole snapper, eviscerated, approx. 3lb.

1 Lemon

4-5 lb. Rock or sea salt

1 cup Chicken stock or water

Preheat the oven to 425F. Pour the salt into a large bowl and add the stock. Mix until dampened and pour off the excess.

Cut up the lemon and stuff it in the body cavity

Put a half-inch layer of salt in a baking pan and lay the fish on top. Pack the top of the fish with the rest of the salt, thicker nearer the tail.

Slip it in the oven for 40 minutes. As the salt crust holds in the moisture, a few minutes too long will not make much difference.

Serve at the table by cracking the crust and removing the skin. Have a large bowl or plate ready, because to get at the underside you just remove the entire skeleton by lifting the tail, leaving the meat exposed.