Dear Raw Fish

Dear Raw Fish,

I know it's inappopriate for me to write you like this - considering our disparate circumstances - but I can't resist. I can't hold it back any longer: I love you.

That's right, I'm in love with you. Not only are you delicious and so wonderfully soft, but you look so damn good on the plate. I don't know if there is anything more beautiful than a few choice cuts of sashimi leaning against shredded radish. The marbling of the fat with your perfectly-textured flesh, the shiny lustre of the light shining back at me . . . It's enough to make a man insane.

And that texture . . . Oh, how I wish I could describe it accurately in words. That combination of soft, and giving, and fleshy, and . . . I don't know. What's the word for a mix between that perfect semi-crunch of an apple mixed with the give of a peach? There is no word to adequately explain it. And only those others who share my love for you can know what I am talking about. I wish I spoke Japanese, because I imagine that only they could have the right words to express how it feels to take a bite out of you.

I apologize for how forward I am being in this letter. I know that you are shy and protective of your honor, but there can be no holding it in any longer.

And tonight I got to try new versions of you. Hirame (flounder) was interesting, but not too tasteful, but the escolar was absolutely wonderful. Of course, nothing will ever be able to top the hamachi toro, but I would never pretend otherwise.

Oh, my oh my. I don't understand why you aren't more common. Why are you only available at sushi restaurants (and don't try to tell me that "seared ahi" is in even the same league as what I'm talking about)? Perhaps it would be too expensive, but I would have absolutely no qualms about diving into a 12-ounce raw yellowtail steak on a plate. Or maybe some beautifully marbled raw salmon. Why has nobody ever thought of that? This is America - the land of excessive quantities and cultural appropriation - so how has this never happened? It's appalling, really.

So my new plan is to find a fish market or store in the nearby area that sells sushi-grade fish, and I am going to buy a bunch of gorgeous slabs of you. And then one night for dinner I'm going to just throw you on a plate, cut you into slices, and eat every last bit of you. And I may very well cry while I do this because it will be such a joyous occasion.

And then you and I can open a little restaurant together and serve you-steaks with side salads . . .

Siigh . . . I know this illicit love affair will never likely be - but a man can dream, can't he? Take care of yourself, and don't ever change a thing, for you are as close to perfection as will ever be attained in this world.

Fondly,
CVT