Speaking of seafood’s siren song, my friends recently inducted me into the Sashimi Preservation Society. This group’s operating charter proclaims its sole mission to be the prevention of any fresh fish from ever visiting the stove top. And prevent it we do. Last Sunday saw the society in a full plenary session. Our mission (and we chose to accept it) consisted of doing massive damage to one of two line caught fifteen pound tunas landed off the coast of Monterey earlier that day. Let me tell you gang, it’s only fresher if you eat it on the boat. These swimmers were stabbed through the heart and bled into seawater once they came over the railing. One of the Sashimi Preservation Society’s founding members is an incorrigible fisherman. We’re talking about the opening day derby sort of fanatic here. He and his boat partner snagged two tuna as long as your arm on Sunday afternoon. By sundown, we were administering our (not so) tender mercies upon their tenderloins.
I brought along the ESB Bitters, organic pickled ginger (gari), some home made red Jalapeño Serrano salsa and Hime organic wasabi powder. From the kitchen came a massive tray of daisy fresh tuna tenderloin. For afters, I seared off a half-dozen medallions in rice wine, garlic and sesame oil. Other friends brought over some steaks and they were soon slathered with a horseradish and sour cream sauce as well. The bottle of Maker’s Mark bourbon began to flow while I toasted my recently departed friend and the piano music began to play. However valiantly we struggled to preserve this fabulous treasure trove of the very freshest sashimi, our efforts were in vain.
Circumstances forced us to reconvene the following night in another brave attempt to carry out our society’s mission statement. I augmented our culinary arsenal with some of Kikkoman’s superb Kappou Sashimi soy sauce, a small wing of hamachi yellowtail tuna, some organic gari, a dozen quail eggs, a small tub of tobiko caviar, one six pack of Kirin special reserve lager and a package of toasted nori sheets. After the dry rubbed St. Louis cut back ribs appetizer came off of the grill it was my turn to become the Mean (not so) Lean Maki Making Machine. I cranked out negi hama yellowtail rolls, tekka maki after tekka maki with shiro goma plus various garnishes and our fisherman friend carved up another platter of sparkling fresh sashimi. For some mysterious reason, we never got around to the New York steaks. No one was able to explain it in sufficiently clear terms. However, that was more likely due to the rounds of Absolute vodka and fresh squeezed ruby grapefruit juice. One thing is for sure, the tuna did not suffer, even if we did.
We preserved that sashimi mightily for the entire evening. I’d say a pound or two of tuna washed over the gunwales before night’s end. Tonight, I’m going back to grill off the New York steaks. Goodness knows we’ll have to find some way to continue preserving whatever sashimi is left. When will this brutality ever end?
