It is unusually gray this morning. I’m moving a bit slow after a late night beach party. But the dog doesn’t care. “Feed me and let’s walk!” commands super-hound, Sparky. We are out the door at 7am.
It is Tuesday, pick up day, so the roar of garbage trucks fills the neighborhood air. So does the noise of the diesel from the Molly M, just returned after a night on the water. The crew looks tired as the wind has been blowing a constant 25-30 knots with accompanying heavy seas. I look to the dock and see about thirty black-fin tuna lined up on the deck. Oh my. Sashimi tonight. You know, it’s that delectable Japanese way of preparing raw fish.
Gerry, a local fisherman, comes toward his truck where an opened, coffin-sized cooler awaits. Sparky’s eyes are locked on him as he approaches with four tuna in each hand. “Bon dia. Do you have a small one for me?” I ask. “Ami pensando asina. Mi ta wòrdu drechi bèk,” responds Gerry in Papiamentu. (I think so. I will be right back.).
The fisherman returns with another two fistfuls of fish and pulls out the smallest. It is a bit more than a kilo. Ten dollars gets me to sashimi heaven. Sparky looks at me and then to the fish. Yes, I better keep this catch high. The hound is ready for her second breakfast.
Now, I am not a master of filet, but then again, cutting the fish is not brain surgery. A slice near the pectoral fin and then one at the tail. Follow the backbone along one side and then another cut along the bottom. Pull the skin off-easier said then done. Cut two filets out of one side and repeat on the starboard. Thirty minutes later, I have the goods for a feast. StarKist has nothing on me this morning. Sorry, Charlie.
Now I slice paper-thin pieces off of two filets. And then there is the obligatory wasabi—that strong Japanese horseradish paste that clears sinuses in a Tokyo heartbeat, and Saitaku ginger marinated in vinegar and sugar. This stuff is naturally pink and oh, so good. I add a bit of arugula to complete the deal. It is sashimi with sunset tonight.
The other two filets await the grill for a beach party on another day . I’m thinking that a ginger/tamari/garlic marinade may be just the ticket for the fish at grill time. The cats and dogs get the bits and pieces boiled off the head and bone. Everybody is happy. Ah, seaside living, where the grocery store starts at the dock.