We are in mid-August, the time when all Maltese and Gozitans start thinking of lampuki (dolphinfish). It is the time when these fish are caught, sold and eaten − the fresher, the better.

I like fish. My father liked them too and I remember my mother waiting for the fishmonger, who would arrive by bicycle with a large wicker kannestru (a round crate made of cane) tied to the carrier behind the seat of his bicycle. It would be full of different fish placed neatly, one next to the other, on a bed of seaweed and covered with a large, wet piece of hessian sack to keep them cool and fresh.

As soon as he would reach our street, he would alight and walk around while holding his bicycle by the handles and shouting at the top of his voice ‘ħajjin...’ (alive), to try to attract anybody interested in buying his fish, all caught in the Mediterranean sea.

There were no imported fresh fish in the 1950s.

Bogue (vopi), Mediterranean horse mackerel (kavalli), slices of grouper (ċerna), sea needle or garfish or garpike (imsell), octopus (qarnita), squids (klamari) and even sea urchins (rizzi) and common limpets (imħar) were among the fish that earned our fishmonger a living throughout the year.

Yet, especially in the weeks following the feast of the Assumption of Our Lady, he would come more often, offering only lampuki for just a shilling or two.

The fish – which may grow up to circa 22kg – has vibrant green, dark blue and yellow (that is why it is called also ‘dorado’) colours. When excited, some parts of the fish seem to glow a neon blue and that is why it is sometimes called “one of the most colourful fish in the sea”.

This ray-finned fish is typically found in abundance in the waters around the Maltese islands in the second half of the year and in offshore temperate, tropical and subtropical waters around the world as well, something I learnt only recently. Besides dolphinfish and dorado, it is also known as ‘mahi-mahi’, a name the fish earned from the Hawaiian language, meaning ‘the very strong one’. Its scientific name is Coryphaena hippurus.

For us Maltese, the white, meaty fish with its delicate taste is best eaten fried, salted and peppered.

However, it makes very tasty soup and delicious pies. It can also be grilled or simply boiled with a sprinkle of olive oil and lemon juice and served with potato fries and a fresh salad.

It can also be filleted and cooked in a spoonful of olive oil and half a glass of good white wine, with a pinch of salt, pepper, chopped parsley and garlic.

There are, of course, more ways of cooking this fish.

Catching lampuki

There is a very strenuous but really interesting way of catching dolphinfish. They are caught in nets cast from luzzi (fishing boats) as the fish search for shade under kannizzati [trellises] made of palm tree fronds that are tied to a large, flat raft made of a large block of polyester, anchored in the deep, far out at sea.

They are also caught on hooks with bait tied to a floating long line (kontz).

Up to several years ago, I had the impression that lampuki were only caught and sold by Maltese fishermen and fishmongers in Malta and Gozo. But I was wrong, and how.

It was during my lecturing years at the Università degli Studi, L’Orientale, in Naples, that, one day, I accidentally passed through a fish market near the Ospedale dei Pellegrini. There I saw a large tray of dorado fish – the ‘lamruca’ as was written with a blue felt pen – which was sold at €8 a kilo. There were only a few, normal-sized dolphinfish, but I was astonished… never did I think that lampuki could be sold in Italy.

A ‘speciality’

In October 2011, my wife and I were invited to an event organised by the then honorary consul for Malta, the late Michele Di Gianni, to celebrate the annual vendemmia – the picking of grapes grown in his vineyard in Capri and the start of winemaking.

For the occasion, Irma and I were hosted by our Neapolitan friends Franco and Manuela Trupiano at the hotel they own and run in the Palazzo Pignatelli di Monteleone in the large Piazza del Gesù Nuovo, in Naples’ historical centre.

During our stay, Franco invited us for a ‘special’ supper. We sat at table, together with his charming wife and young pretty daughter, Andrea-Martina. I do not remember what we had for an antipasto but then Franco came out of the kitchen with what he called “a Neapolitan speciality”.

“It was specially cooked for you,” he said as he walked towards us, holding a large pyrex dish that had just come out of the oven.

And there it was: a large-sized lampuka, cut in two, sprinkled with herbs and cooked in a sauce.

Irma and I enjoyed eating the fish as if it were our first time. But, later on, we had to confess that lampuki form part of several tasty dishes in Malta.

I sometimes enjoy cooking at home. One of my special recipes is the lampuki pie (torta tal-lampuki in Maltese). Irma and I love them and our children always look forward to them and really enjoy eating my pies.