The Dish
The first bite of a squirrel-shaped mandarin fish is a study in contrasts. The exterior shatters like a delicate tuile — thin, crisp, and lacquered with a sweet-tangy sauce that tastes of cherries and vinegar. Inside, the fish flesh is impossibly tender, almost creamy, flaking apart at the slightest pressure. This is not just a meal; it's a culinary performance, a dish where technique transforms a humble freshwater fish into something that looks like a golden pineapple and eats like a dream.
This dish is the centerpiece of a $1000 seafood challenge in Shanghai, where the rules are simple: eat only seafood, and spend more at each successive restaurant. The journey begins with a $15.30 braised eel and a $20 squirrel fish, then escalates to a $125 platter made from 40 Chinese hairy crabs, and finally culminates in a single shrimp that costs over $200. Each stop reveals a different facet of Chinese seafood cuisine — from the theatrical knife work of the squirrel fish to the painstaking hand-butchery of the crab platter. For any food lover, this is a masterclass in how technique, sourcing, and presentation can elevate seafood to an art form.
The Technique
The squirrel-shaped mandarin fish is a classic of Jiangsu cuisine, and its magic lies entirely in the cutting. The chef begins by removing the head, then fillets the fish while leaving the two fillets connected at the tail. He then scores each fillet with a crosshatch pattern — thin, parallel cuts that go almost to the skin but don't break through. This creates a lattice that, when fried, opens up like a pinecone or a squirrel's bushy tail. The key is the depth of the cuts: too shallow, and the fish won't fan out; too deep, and the skin tears, ruining the shape.
After seasoning with salt, sugar, and pepper, the fish is coated in a thin batter — egg white, cornstarch, and wheat flour — then dusted with additional flour. This double-coating is critical: the egg white provides structure, the cornstarch adds crispness, and the wheat flour gives the crust a golden color. The fish is then lowered into hot oil (around 350°F) headfirst, held by the tail so the fillets curl outward. As it fries, the scored flesh blooms open, creating hundreds of tiny, crispy edges. The result is a texture that's impossible to achieve with a simple pan-fry.
The sauce is equally deliberate. A mixture of ketchup (Chinese-style, which is sweeter and less acidic than Western versions), sugar, vinegar, and a cornstarch slurry is simmered until glossy and thick. Peas are added for color and a pop of sweetness. The sauce is poured over the fish just before serving, so the crust remains crisp for a few precious minutes. This timing is everything — the dish must be eaten immediately, before the sauce softens the shell.
Ingredients & Substitutions
Mandarin fish (also known as Chinese perch or Siniperca chuatsi) is the traditional choice for this dish. It has a firm, white flesh that holds up well to scoring and frying, and a mild flavor that pairs beautifully with the sweet-sour sauce. If you can't find mandarin fish, substitute with sea bass, striped bass, or even tilapia — any firm, flaky white fish will work. Avoid oily fish like salmon, which would overpower the delicate sauce.
For the sauce, Chinese ketchup is worth seeking out. Brands like Lee Kum Kee or S&B produce a ketchup that's sweeter and thicker than Heinz, with a more pronounced tomato flavor. If you're using Western ketchup, add a teaspoon of hoisin sauce or plum sauce to approximate the sweetness. The vinegar should be rice vinegar or Chinkiang black vinegar — the latter adds a smoky depth that's authentic but not essential.
For the crab platter, Chinese hairy crabs (Eriocheir sinensis) are prized for their sweet, delicate meat and rich roe. They are seasonal (autumn) and expensive, even in China. Outside of Asia, you can substitute with blue crabs or Dungeness crabs, but the flavor will be less nuanced. The roe (both male and female) is a key component — if unavailable, skip it rather than substitute with something like salmon roe, which is too briny.
Common Mistakes
The biggest mistake home cooks make with the squirrel fish is cutting the lattice too shallow or too deep. A shallow cut means the fish won't open properly; a deep cut tears the skin and causes the fillets to separate during frying. The solution: use a sharp knife and make cuts about 1/8 inch apart, stopping just short of the skin. Practice on a piece of tofu first to get the feel.
Another common error is over-battering. The coating should be thin — just enough to create a crisp shell without muffling the fish's flavor. If the batter is too thick, the fish becomes doughy. If too thin, it won't crisp. The test: after coating, the fish should look slightly opaque but not pasty.
For the crab platter, the mistake is not separating the meats by type. Each part — body, leg, claw, roe, fat — has a different texture and flavor. Mixing them all together without thought is like throwing a fine wine into a sangria. Take the time to taste each component separately before combining them.
Pro Tips
For the squirrel fish, the oil temperature is non-negotiable. Use a thermometer and maintain 350°F. If the oil is too cool, the fish absorbs fat and becomes greasy; too hot, the outside burns before the inside cooks. Fry the fish twice for extra crispness: first at 325°F for 4-5 minutes to cook through, then at 375°F for 1-2 minutes to crisp the exterior. This double-fry technique is the same one used for the best French fries.
When serving the crab platter, offer a small dish of black vinegar with slivered ginger on the side. The acidity cuts through the richness of the roe and fat, balancing the dish. A spoonful of vinegar over the rice and crab mixture transforms it from decadent to sublime.
For the $200 shrimp (presumably a giant tiger prawn or similar), the key is minimal intervention. Such a premium ingredient needs only a quick sear in clarified butter, a pinch of sea salt, and a squeeze of lemon. Over-seasoning is a crime against luxury seafood.
The Verdict
The $1000 seafood challenge is not for the faint of wallet, but it's a fascinating exploration of Chinese seafood craftsmanship. The squirrel-shaped mandarin fish is a must-try for any adventurous cook — the technique is challenging but achievable with practice, and the wow factor is immense. The crab platter is a labor of love best left to professionals, but it's worth seeking out at a specialty restaurant. The $200 shrimp is a luxury indulgence that proves the old adage: sometimes the simplest preparation is the most respectful.
For home cooks, I recommend starting with the squirrel fish. It's a project, but one that teaches invaluable skills: knife work, battering, frying, and sauce-making. The payoff is a dish that looks like a sculpture and tastes like a celebration. Just be prepared to eat it immediately — and maybe have a gout remedy on hand.
