Foto Friday: the last time I ate tuna. 30 October 2009 3:32 pm
Posted by Tracy in : books,consumerism,eating,environment,fish,food safety,food snobbery,health,Holland,Marion Nestle,Netherlands,not even vegetarian,photos,pictures,restaurants,sustainability,tuna , trackbackIt has been exactly four months since I last ate tuna. I believe this may be some kind of personal record; at the very least, it is the longest I can remember going without tuna since I cared to keep track of such things. Let me explain.
I love tuna; I think it’s incredibly delicious. Unfortunately, since because of that deliciousness it’s effectively an endangered fricken species, I try not to eat it too often, on account of how I’ll be a very cranky old lady indeed if large ocean fish are extinct in the next 40 to 50 years and I’m trying to do my part to reduce demand and all that. (Because I eat it so rarely, I’m not freaking out about the whole methylmercury problem, but it is horrific and I am eternally grateful to Marion Nestle’s What to Eat for the revelation that it’s not bioaccumulative.) Anyway.
I’ve been reading a bunch about tuna farming this week — real tuna farming, not “catch baby tuna in the wild and raise them in captivity” tuna ranching, but actual farming, baby fish hatched in captivity and everything, and my personal jury is still out, to put it mildly. I wanted to come to some kind of conclusion about this latest development in time to add it to this post, but it will have to wait for another time. In the meantime, I will continue my tuna-free streak. Luckily, the last time I ate tuna was so fantastic that it’s given me an even better motivation not to crack open the canned stuff — simply put, it’s going to be very hard to find another tuna meal this good. Behold:
I’m guessing that’s a good quarter kilo of fish, at least.
The setting: Vishandel Simonis are a Dutch fish business with a small chain of restaurants in addition to their retail operations. Peter and I ate at their location in the Scheveningen inner harbor on the first night of our bike trip in Holland this summer. Simonis Aan De Haven is a weird place to find (we would never have gotten there without directions from our host at the bed and breakfast), down a pier full of warehouses and fish wholesalers, and just as you think maybe you’re lost, there it is, on the right, outdoor seating past a storefront with chalked-up blackboards advertising all kinds of specials of the day. Inside the restaurant, there’s a big refrigerated case of raw fish below a shelf of sample plates below bright LCD monitors displaying yet more specials of the day (including shiny pictures) in case none of the raw stuff inspires you. You name a fish, there’s a good chance they’ve got the day’s catch of it fresh and ready to deep-fry with an order of potatoliciousness on the side.
That night four months ago, I must have looked a little overwhelmed-pathetic at the thought of all that frying, and the girl behind the counter took pity on me and suggested a few grilled options, including tuna, which in my weakened-from-cycle-tourism state, I could not resist. “How would you like that done?” she asked, and I said, “Rare,” knowing that I’d be lucky to get any pink bits since overcooking protein is a proud fundamental technique in Dutch culinary tradition. We proceeded down the counter, ordered drinks, paid, collected our numbered receipt and drinks, and found seats at a table close to the door but within eye- and earshot of the receipt-number display and loudspeaker announcments of orders as they came up. The restaurant was crowded, so it would have been loud even without the intercom, so it was good to have the door table even if the light coming in from outside made for tricky food photography.
As I said before, I’m guessing I got somewhere between a quarter and half a kilogram of tuna in my order, plus fries, salad, and what I think was a balsamic glaze which I barely touched because, hello? I was there for the fabulous pile of fish, not saucy distractions. I also did not use any of the lemon slices provided, and after finishing the first (medium-done) piece of fish and the salad I gave up on the fries, too. The second piece of fish was pinker than the first, and even more delicious, but finishing it took a nigh-heroic effort on my part. So the last time I ate tuna, I ended up blissfully, euphorically full of a fish I feel guilty about eating, and that memory has helped me hold out against eating tuna for these record-setting four months.
Epilogue
It turns out Simonis are Marine Stewardship Council certified. For tuna, no less. So my conscience is about as eased about this meal as it can be. Which makes this memory even more delicious. Yay!
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Eric
