The worst part of walking through any supermarket is the smell by the fish counter. Well, paying is pretty bad, but the fish counter is worse.
Even if you like fish, you know what I’m talking about. And even if your supermarket is sanitary, you know what I’m talking about. It’s just the way fish smell.
I’m working towards liking fish.
The smell at the supermarket does fish no favors, so I avoid that section when I’m alone. If I’m eating fish it’s because I’m at someone elses’ home and don’t want to be rude. When in fact my little eyes are scanning the table to see if there may be enough side dishes to fill me up, if not, some sort of chicken alternative?
I’ve long suspected that liking fish was a sign of a mature palate. After all, most of the fish-eaters that I know are intelligent and healthy. They spritz lemon juice, never dredge through tartar sauce (which was always my way of making fish edible). They sip white wine and say things like, “This (enter fish name here) is nice and flaky.”
Meat can be flaky?
Is fish considered meat in the first place? If not, if the food-powers-that-be would let me create a new classification just for fish, I’d have a better attitude about the word “flaky” being a positive thing.
If I were a fish, I would like to be a zebra lionfish! That way I’d have poisonous dorsal fin spines. Where else could a zebra and lion live in such harmony? Plus, with a huge mouth that works like a vacuum cleaner, the zebra lionfish gobbles up small fish, crabs and shrimp almost as big as itself. It can eat a lot. The zebra lionfish can eat up to ten animals in one night. What’s not to love?
I want to re-iterate that I am trying to like the taste of fish. If I ever eat at your home and you’re serving fish, I WILL eat it, so please don’t change the menu. I’ll simply use my vacuum cleaner mouth.