Traveling the Song Line

I may have just had one of the defining meals of my life.

Being an Arizona kid, my exposure to eating fish was limited, and even later it was not a large part of our culinary repertoire. Tuna salad made from canned tuna, perhaps. After my Dad's first heart attack, my mother tried to institute some dietary improvements. However, I doubt breaded fish sticks with mayo tartar sauce are exactly heart healthy. Later in life, I loved lobster, shrimp, and was a pretty aggressive abalone diver at one point. But fish? Not so much. Aside from a somewhat recent and quirky exploration of the fish taco world, but that's another story.

The first day in a new marina, you get paperwork. You dutifully trudge up to the office, credit card in hand with your bundle of registration, passport, visa, insurance, boat import permit, and the checkout from you last port of call. Did I mention you are supposed to check in and out with the Port Captain? This tradition is an odd bit of local government varying from call in on the radio to fill out multiple forms, visit several offices, and pay.

Here, the marina put together a bundle of papers to take to the Port Captain, whose office is on the other side of the channel. Water taxi time. It was a simple process of about 30 seconds, and was literally a rubber stamp and a signature. Easy and simple.

What does this have to do with fish? The guy I shared the water taxi with. There are divisions, politics, rivalries, and posturing among members of the boating community which most of us don't take too seriously. I am the cruiser, a sailor in a small, inexpensive sailboat. There are mega yachts here whose dinghies have bigger engines than my boat. There are big sailboats. I talked to a guy who had his big Hunter sailboat trucked down from Canada because it was too much hassle to sail her. There are cruisers in trawlers. There are folks who live to charter boats. And there are sport fisherman. Like my friend on the water taxi.

He was checking his 60 foot plus sport fishing boat. This is a different branch entirely of the water world. BUT...we are all out on the same water, deal with many of the same issues, and go many of the same places. We have differences, but huge commonalities. And we all have to check in and out with the port captain. He was highly amused and somewhat surprised that I single handed my little boat from SF. He's down here with 5 buddies on an air conditioned diesel guzzler. As I say, a different beast.

The water taxi driver wanted pesos, and my fisherman was short. I gave him 10 pesos, about 50 cents. Small investment in goodwill, and an easy gesture of support for another boater. We were now sharing life stories and suggested places to visit. I asked him what they fished for. He got a little wistful, and said yellow tuna. Ahi. They only caught one. On with our discussion, but he wound up giving me a good sized ahi tuna steak. I rely on the kindness of strangers.

There is also a local grocery store, so I made a quick stop on the way back to the boat. Dinner tonight was fresh tomatoes, quesadillas on handmade tortillas, and pan fried tuna prepped with garlic and Cajun seasoning.

My friends, the clouds parted and the sun shone down on me. My tongue was bathed in light.The tuna was moist, tender, and possibly the best bit of animal flesh I ever ate. My kitchen is simple, but not much was needed. I am reminded that entire careers and reputations of some chefs are made on the simple basis of choosing the right ingredients. Maybe that's what just happened to me. I just know this was a wonderful dinner that may have turned around my attitudes on seafood.

Now I have even more worlds to explore. And will definitely be adding tuna to my culinary repertoire.

Thank you, sport fisherman. I'll buy you a drink the next time we meet.