I definitely wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) be called a fisherman by anyone I know. But a few months ago I went on a trip to Alaska with buddies and caught a hell of a lot of fish, and we returned to the lower forty-eight with our fair share. At first I was eating fish all the time, but shortly thereafter my consumption slowed greatly. Fresh fish is fantastic, but I quickly craved a greater variety of protein.
It’s funny because the industry folks we met in Alaska – the boat captains, the fish cleaners – obviously felt the same way. They all spoke lustfully of steaks and burgers and any other animal that doesn’t have gills. I can certainly see how that could happen, being surrounded by it every day.
And I agree – nothing beats variety. Since settling back into my normal eating routine, I do greatly enjoy dipping into the fish pile we accumulated. It’s so satisfying, putting together a meal with the memory of its origination. The fish we caught were immediately fileted and flash frozen, transferred to a deep freeze in Atlanta, by way of Delta checked baggage. It couldn’t be fresher, save for the evening meals after our hunt. The other day I pulled a salmon filet out, and I looked at the skin and I could remember that exact fish and the memory of that day on the Kenai River.
I dropped it directly into my sous vide cooker, seared it off with a few herbs and spices, and had the most satisfying lunch. So again, I’m not a fisherman, or a hunter, but an experience like this provides great appeal for future excursions.
