Dining on Seafood: Important Tips on Weeding out the Bad and the Ugly

Right: the "shrimp menu" at one of my favorite restaurants Royal Capital Seafood, a modest restaurant which is always bustling, in Anaheim's Southeast Asian community. At lunch they offer most of thier dinner entrees at half the price!



If you have ever longed for a time or place that no longer exists, or never did exist, then perhaps you will share in the deep despair that drives me to write today's post. I caught a glimpse of my fantasy land once as a very young child. Swimming in the warm China Sea, I fought the sting of brine in my eyes in order to watch hundreds of gorgeous fish and mollusks swirling about me. To some it would have been the most delightful sightseeing experience, but to me it was a heaven, the freshest seafood buffet I had ever seen. That day I only stopped swimming after the sun had set and an approaching storm threatened the calm waters.

Since then, I have tried to maintain my vision of the perfect world by listening to my mother's stories about growing up on the lush, tropical archipelago of islands known as the Philippines. She usually tells these stories as we shop in markets among tanks of live seafood. "Oh," she'll say as we pass a variety of lively, purple-tailed prawns, "we have this shrimp back home that we call jumping shrimp because it snaps its back and flies in the air when you try to hold it. The flesh is soooo sweet and good!"At this point she smiles, glowing and giddy as a little girl, thinking of the lively shrimp with meat unparalled by any shrimp in this country, and gestures at the excitement of catching such a prize.

Of course, superb seafood is not limted to those living in tropical climes. In this country we are fortunate enough to have access to two oceans with very different, equally excellent, inventories of seafood. I have always read and heard stories of how our shores were once brimming with the delicious species of ocean-dwellers that are so rare today. In California there is the legend of the abalone, once so abundant that its shells were used as currency by Native Americans residing along the Western coast. I have never had abalone because it is hard to find and dishes containing it can run upwards of twenty-five dollars, but I hear that an abalone steak is unmatched by few other meals. I have also heard that lobsters were once so plentiful along the New England coast that the first settlers used the delectable crustacean for the lowly purpose of fertilizing their fields! Does your heart flutter as loudly and desperately as mine to imagine such a time?

You can imagine my excitement when, a couple weekends ago, I happened to stumble across a book that I was almost certain was written to comfort and inspire me, Stalking the Blue-eyed Scallop. This book, written by a very brave and ambitious Euell Gibbons, describes a variety of frutti di mare that can easily be found, and captured, in the wild by even the least equipped amateur fisher. I have stayed up nights chewing my nails out of excitement as Gibbons described tidepools of chattering scallops, impeccable shoals of deep-blue mussels, and silver shores of spawning grunion, among other magical landscapes. Amid the fervor of imagining the days of shellfish-gathering to come, I had a sober moment long enough to check the publishing date of my faded book. 1964, the title page read. My heart sank like an anchor into cold, dark depths of sea. Of course this book described places that no longer exist, for many of us know how we have devastated the populations of so many species in recent years.

In order to overcome one of the most stunning and shattering experiences of my life, and to satiate a craving that had been growing from deep within my gut, I decided to seek out a restaurant that would serve me a few fresh, sweet, meltingly tender sea scallops. I decided that they would be seared in order to create that nutty, golden brown, carmelized crust on each flat side and served on lingine with a light, tangy, slightly spicy tomato sauce.

Being fairly new to the Bay Area, Eric and I opted for seafood restaurant chain McCormick and Schmicks for its impressive offerings of freshly caught fish and shellfish. The restaurant proudly showcased the various fish, and their respective habitats, at the top of each menu. This display of confidence signaled to me a particular command over these beautiful ingredients, so I ordered my dish of scallops and linguine with more confidence than I am likely to muster in a seafood chain. Eric's positive remarks about the specimens in his oyster sampler kept me hopeful (to the dismay of many fish lovers, I am not a fan of oysters for I am quite sensitive to their metallic taste, but perhaps they will grow on me). However, my enthusiasm waned when our calamari arrived. Not even a good batter could disguise the rubbery, watery-tasting morsels of squid. My optimism waned and ushered in my usual cynicism. When my plate of (mostly) linguine and (hardly any) scallops arrived covered in a homogenous, dark red sauce, I felt my mouth water...not out of anticipation but out of the feeling that I was about to be ill. As I tossed the pasta, I realized that the pudding-like sauce must have been made out of tobasco and a processed tomato product like tomato paste. Upon tasting it I found that I was quite right, the overly sweet sauce hinted at the taste of tomato even less so than ketchup. In fact, as Eric sampled the dish to see if I was grimacing out of exaggeration, he pointed out that my pasta tasted like cocktail sauce. I immediately put my fork down.

The story above describes the crisis of seafood dining that we face today: overpriced and badly cooked. Our seafood is overpriced because we have over-fished it only to haphazardly overcook it or combine it with a mess of other poorly matched ingredients. So, while the scallops in my pasta were fresh and probably delicious, their glory was squandered away in the carelessness of their preparation. Thus, I will finally disclose to you (after all this bitching and moaning) the secrets of savoring these dwindling gifts of the sea.

As with all naturally delicious foods, the tenet that less is more holds true especially because the complex flavors of seafood are very delicate. Besides the importance of optimal freshness, fish is best less cooked and with less additional ingredients. Overcooking seafood tends to render the flesh rubbery, and stinking of off-flavors. For this reason, sushi or sashimi is a fantastic way to enjoy seafood, for the simplicity of preparation perfectly presents fish at it's freshest. Because most sushi is uncooked, it is crucial to eat only at the best of sushi restaurants. True, the best sushi restaurants may be more expensive, but I must argue that sushi that is not made of the freshest fish is not worth eating, even if it is discounted at "half-price". Also, half-price sushi restaurants tend to make smaller rolls and nigiri that are often overwhelmed by rice and vegetables. Hirosuke in the San Fernando valley of L.A. is one of my favorites for the quality of fish and perfectly combined ingredients. The food is tasty, the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, and there is something for everyone. For the more serious sushi eater, there is Nozawa, also in L.A. Known because of the chef's strict discretion in choosing fish, Nozawa is one of the most popular sushi restarants, despite the drab, strip-mall location . The preparation is unfussy, but the fish is exquisite. Some have even called the fish ambrosial in order to describe its godliness. I have not yet been to the famed Matsuhisa in L.A. or Nobu in Malibu, but Nobu Matsuhisa, founder of both restaurants, is supposed to be this country's premier sushi chef.

For those who prefer their fish cooked, I have to recommend Chinese cuisine. The Chinese restaurants that I grew up eating at had walls lined with tanks of live fish, lobsters, crabs, and shrimp just waiting to be ordered. Furthermore, Chinese dishes are often cooked quickly and over a high heat, preserving the moist, fragile flesh and sweet flavor of seafood. To top it all off, most chinese restaurants are cheap! My favorite dish is Salt and Pepper Shrimp. In this dish, the whole shrimp are lightly dredged in cornstarch or a thin batter and deep fried at a high temperature for a very short period of time. When the shrimp come out, and are still piping hot, they are sprinkled with salt, pepper, and a mixture of garlic, scallions, and chiles that have been very quickly fried. The results are mouthwatering: pink, crunchy morsels that are bursting with briny, savory, perfectly shrimpy flavor. These are eaten with the shell on, but having been fried at such a high temperture, the shell and legs are so crisp that it is a welcome complement to the juicy tenders encased within. Because this recipe is tailored to cook shrimp just enough so that it does not get rubbery, it is ideal for lobster, which I often find dry, tasteless, and overcooked from being boiled or steamed. It's quite a bit more pricey than shrimp, of course, but is definitely worth it if you can find a place that serves live lobsters. Capitol Seafood and Royal Capitol Seafood, both in Garden Grove, are two of L.A.'s best kept seafood-secrets. Their non-seafood dishes are also superb, and the variety and quantity of offerings are endless.

Italian restaurants also do seafood beautifully, though I cannot think of many restaurants on the West Coast that do a great job at this cuisine as most of our Italians reside on the East Coast. If, however, you find yourself in Manhattan, Carmine's will serve up a huge bowl of one of my favorite dishes of all time, Linguine Frutti di Mare. You can actually see the fresh ingredients in this tomato sauce! Chunks of zesty plum tomatoes and golden slivers of toasted garlic dotted with bright green ribbons of sweet basil . The portion of seafood is so generous, that a whole lobster, head and all, garnishes this bowl of heaven. The delight of finding this restaurant in one of the most touristy parts of NYC, and excitedly enjoying every bite with my seafood soul-mate and inspiration, my mom, will forever be one of my fondest memories.

In choosing a seafood restaurant, just remember that you should always pick a cuisine from a culture where fish is a primary source of food, as these people best know how to prepare these delicate morsels. Also, if you live on the West Coast, forget about finding an East Coast styled, fish market-like restaurant worth your while. I have traveled up and down the West coast in search of such restaurants only to meet repeatedly with salty, rubbery, breaded items, gummy chowders, and tasteless fish fillets.

Lastly, there is the option of cooking seafood at home, but choosing and cooking fish is a topic I would rather tackle separately as it would sure double the length of this already sprawling article.

In summation, the best things to keep in mind to ensure that you will enjoy your seafood dining experience is freshness, quality, and simplicity. If you know of a place that serves fresh fish, opt for a dish that requires the fish to be cooked quickly, and when in doubt skip the frills and order the fish pan-roasted or grilled. Afterall, if you trust the fish source of your restaurant, then it is wise to err on the side of simplicity and allow the fish alone to show you what a good meal is all about.

The Founding

University has proven challenging and lonely for me, and as challenging moments in our lives allow us to discover what we are (or are not) made of I have discovered that University has rendered me rather fat and gluttonous as I am prone to gorging myself on all kinds of luxurious foods in times of stress. Though this may seem like a cry for pity, I assure you I'm alluding to a magnificent sort of epiphany. For while I have struggled toward my degree in Anthropology and have been significantly humbled by the demands of academia, I have discovered that there is always one thing that I will excel in, and that is eating well.

Defining what it is to eat well is a sensitive topic, for it is clear by the vast range of retaurants in our cities that good food means many different things to many different people. If the variety of restaurants in either San Francisco or Los Angeles was an indication of healthy diversity of palates, I might be a content foodie, but instead I find that too many "foodies" have developed their tastes unintelligently, crowding the snootiest of restaurants to dine on oddly paired melanges of trendy ingredients.

Now, if the above rant hasn't driven you away, I don't know what will. Thus if you have read this far, I hope you will continue to join me in the discussion on what it means to love good food. I have only met a few people that do not "love food" and after close inspection I have come to the conclusion that those people are semi-robots, deriving sustenance from electrical outlets and the occasional box of Kraft macaroni.

To me, loving food is something of a desperation. This strong, basal desire is sharpened into skill through years of discrimination and deep appreciation. It is the drive that allows oneself to go through hours of L.A. traffic to get to the freshest, and tastiest seafood in all of Southern California (Royal Capital Seafood, Garden Grove). To most people, such behavior is clearly insane, which is why I rejoice upon finding a kindred spirit. My friend Shiri, for example, travels to Chicago solely to dine on some of this nation's choicest dining establishments. My Auntie Zeny, perhaps the first foodie influence in my life, used to take me and my family on a four hour drive across the border to Puerto Nuevo, Mexico where each of us would consume pina coladas, margaritas, and pounds of broiled pacific lobsters that were piled high in the center of the table. I still remember the morning I woke up rather sick, hungover perhaps, from the pina coladas that accompanied those sweet, buttery nuggets of lobster. I think I was about six. Thus, my beginnings as a foodie stretch beyond my memory.

So, in the case of food at least, my scrutiny and sensitivity to the tiniest of nuances has served me well, allowing me to eat so heartily as to be considered a glutton. How the joy of eating could ever be considered a sin is incomprehensible to me, unless one is not sharing that joy with others. Nonetheless, if my love of food has me destined for the underworld at least I can be certain that I will be in the good company of other food sensualists. I can see us now, recalling memories of the best meals of our lives among the jumping flames.