Something Seems Fishy

 I've never been one for fish. For one, I only have one recipe: garlic butter salmon. Turns out that gets old after a while. My friends try to turn me on to wild-caught fish but some of them are a little too fishy-tasting and honestly, if I don't know the name of the fish, I probably won't eat it. 

So on I've trudged, eating my garlic butter salmon when I run out of chicken. My friends, suffice it to say, were disappointed in my behavior. They pointed out my dreams of working in the food world. Picky eaters don't get to do that, they said. They had a point. So, against what I thought was my better judgment, the next time we went on vacation, I let them drag me to — of all places to eat fish — a food truck. It was terrifying, to be honest. Food truck fish? How sanitary could it be? I watched the man prepare the fish carefully, then watched him cook it. I wasn't leaving with salmonella or food poisoning or anything else. 

At first, I could hardly keep my camera steady. The way he was gutting the fish, so cavalier in his handling of what had once been alive, felt like he was gutting me. I contemplated veganism for a minute but powered through. It became mesmerizing. Descaling. Gut removal. Slicing. The way he held that ax. I'm sure a lesser man would have chopped off a limb or two already. 

The fish was seasoned and deep-fried. This was new to me. Deep-frying was for carnival food, not for fish. I stared at the oil collecting on my plate, seeping through. The fish would grow cold soon so I took the first bite. My friends had neglected to tell me that fish have bones. Did you know that? I guess I'd never thought about it, but the salmon and canned tuna I buy sure don't have any bones. They told me you're supposed to just pull the bones out of your mouth as you eat — slowly, carefully. My first bite and a tiny one had already stabbed my hard palate. Fish: 1 | Camille: 0. I tried again. Slow, sure bites. The inside tasted plain, but the seasoning rub on the outside permeated my mouth. It was mild but full of flavor. I didn't know fish could have such nuance. 

I cleaned my whole plate. I'm still wary of buying fish from the market, but much more open to trying it at restaurants. Knowing there's a world of possibility beyond the five-minute garlic, butter, and salt mixture I had been eating all this time open my eyes. There is deep culinary knowledge in those dark, black fish eyes, and I am ready to learn.