There’s Always a Catch

It is absolutely imperative that I confess a sin-of-sorts of self-absorption.

With all of that fine, crackly, wacky radiation pouring into the Pacific Ocean from Japan, in addition to the sludgy dreck of who-really-knows-what the Gulf oil spill has already done and is probably insidiously continuing to do to the marine life in that area of the wide open watery mass, oh woe for anyone who loves to eat fish!

That’s right. It’s all about the food supply rather than anything else. I’m so proud to be a self-indulgent American who is finally telling the truth about what is on all the “foodie’s” minds as the news continues to seep out about the leakage. Yep. Forget about the people who have been exposed, displaced, erased. What about how all of this is affecting me! C’mon. This entire scare is ruining my happiness! Hiss.

I am very fond of “Wild Japanese Scallops.” Harumph! I am not a “farm-raised” fish eater. I love my food “wild” and free. When not buying Norwegian Salmon, then it’s wild Alaskan for me. Shrimp, Lobster, Crabs, Oysters, Clams…. Oh my! Of course shell fish can be procured via the North Atlantic where, to our knowledge, radiation and oil sludge is a mere smug shrug by New England locals who are miles away from the undercurrent dramas. But there is a limited amount of the savory crustaceans from those locations to spread around when skittish shoppers stop to stare at the fish mongers, wondering if what is fished-out of those captive nets will make a safe dish.

And sushi/sashimi? Oy vey! What’s to become of the delicacies flown in daily from Japan? This is not a good sign for the purist, picky, cautious sushi chef, is it? And no, I’m not ready to give up fish. Years ago I "gave up" red meat. That’s as far as I’ve gone in the culinary shift. Of course, the practice of eating anything with eyes would vanish if I had to hunt and fish for my own dinner. Poor little fishies and chickens and turkeys fearing for their lives in my presence would slap a gargantuan dose of reality into the rosy glow of Thanksgiving and summer BBQ’s.

Can’t have that, now can we - the grim reality of it all. It’s enough to realize that in our entitled, don’t-get-ones-hands-dirty society, the majority of the population do not live on farms where a chopping block is commonplace for those who raise their own fowl from the day the eggs turn into cute fuzzy-wuzzies where they roam free-range style until someone decides it’s time for “Plucky” to become unlucky.

Fishing is a slightly different experience. It’s a cleaner catch to the personal fetch. Unless one has to perform the unpleasant task of gutting and cutting, it’s not a traumatic act.

So, how do you feel now that your day has been tainted with nauseating imagery as you prepare your next meal if it involves more than vegetables or cut oats by steel?

I’m sure we’ll all be just fine if we tune out reality one more time.