Growing up, I had a hatred for seafood. I would cough, convulse, and make hurling sounds at the mere mention of dishes like shrimp, salmon, or sushi. But then during a Christmas trip to Kauai, I tried Mahi Mahi for the first time. Maybe it was the smell of the ocean or fresh Kona coffee brewing that hypnotized me, but I was open to giving it another whirl. It was simple. The Mahi was blackened on the grill and finished off with a fresh squeeze of lime juice. And when I took my first bite, I was a little confused by the little miracle happening in my mouth. It was meaty like a steak but at the same time delicate. There was no disgusting fishy smell. Not in the least. Instead I found myself licking my plate clean wondering how I could do that all over again. Thank you Hawaii, and thank you my friend Mahi Mahi, for what you have done for me.
Last week, I was standing at the counter of a local seafood market I had heard about but had never gone into. The fishmonger told me of a shipment coming in from Hawaii the next day and that the fish would be so fresh that it wasn’t even caught yet. I responded with, “I’ll be here tomorrow.” I came back and immediately had my eye on the Tuna. Oh baby, this sweetheart was deep red. And she screamed to me from inside the case, “Please eat me like sashimi with soy sauce and wasabi!” I responded with, “I’ll take her.”
And it was that simple. I came home, took 12 oz. of Big Eye Red Tuna that had just come out of the water 
less than 24 hours prior, and sliced delicate pieces on to my plate. With chopsticks I gently bathed each piece with a mixture of freshly-made wasabi and soy and placed the Tuna on my tongue. And that’s when the magic happened. It literally melted in my mouth. That’s when you know you have a great piece of fish. It doesn’t smell fishy. It should have a slight scent of the ocean. I like to ask to smell the fish over the counter, and I close my eyes and try to imagine white sand beaches, hammocks tied between palm trees, and fresh mangoes picked from a tree. If instead I get a flood of memories of my dirty locker room during high school football, or of the time I was living in Romania and the garbage men went on strike, then I know it’s not worth coming close to my lips.
Yesterday I had to go back. I had to see if it was just a fluke or if I had indeed found a little treasure in my landlocked city. So I strolled in asking what was fresh. This time, I was pointed towards the Wahoo or “Ono”. It’s not as steak-like or meaty as the Mahi but very firm and delicate. As he sliced it up, another man was weighing what looked to be lump crab meat. I asked, “Is that lump crab meat?” He smiled and handed me a piece. As I slowly chewed, I think a tear rolled down my cheek right there in front of him. I responded with, “Yes please.”
When dealing with fish on this level, you try to keep it simple and let the freshness speak for itself. I took some wonderful French sea salt, cracked black pepper, and smoked paprika and coated it on both sides of the Wahoo. In a stainless steel pan over medium heat, I put extra virgin olive oil and raw Jersey butter. I cooked the fish for 4 minutes on each side, and as it sizzled in the pan I danced back and forth while spooning ladles of browning butter all over my main attraction. When she was done I took her out and laid her on a big red plate and went to work on the grande finale. In the pan, after cooking it like that, your fish leaves you little bits of goodness. It’s my job to get those guys and make a sauce that will make you jump up and down like the Holy Spirit just came upon you. On medium low I added lemon juice, chopped parsley, chopped garlic, and cream. Scrape scrape swirl. Scrape scrape swirl. Don’t be in a hurry. Because just when you think things couldn’t possibly make you smile more, you add the lump crab meat. Toss it around just to heat and then slowly spoon all over the Wahoo. I was playing the Gene Kelley Pandora station on my iPhone, and with candlelight the feeling was perfect. I took my first bite and was reminded instantly why I love fresh fish. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel bloated or heavy afterwards. Maybe it’s knowing I spent 20 bucks on something that would cost 100 at a nice restaurant. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because it reminded me of simple food and simple living, and I know it doesn’t get much better than that.
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