I never thought I would be the first to say that I actually enjoy cutting fish. The smell is awful, they are slimy little buggers, and there’s always that strange feeling of having your food look at you as you rip out its internal organs. Gutting humor aside, I came into work the other day expecting a plethora of surprises after the previous day, where the Buffalo Sabres demolished my fish stores until the point of elimination. Those guys really like their salmon and halibut. At the restaurant I found a bag filled with flaky, white Chilean Sea Bass (which is in fact, not a real bass, otherwise known as a Patagonian Tooth Fish). Boy was i happy, finally allowed to try something new and fresh for a special. Only that happiness didn’t last long.

Who Cuts A Fish Like That!

Beautiful filets, sparkling white, sat there in a bag on my table. I began trying to figure out how I was going to remove the bones that sat in between each piece. I looked at it, thinking back to my days at the CIA in fish class, about proper cutting techniques for bass. I then tried to remove the spinal bones using needle nose pliers. This proved useless. Apparently, even fish purveyors don’t know proper cutting techniques.

Normally, when preparing a bass one would use the up and over cutting method, removing the filet sides from the spinal bone. This Einstein, skipped that whole idea and had cut each filet straight through the spine. No restaurant in the world would ever serve fish to any patron knowing that one bite would spell doom for the whole meal. My hands couldn’t reach a phone fast enough.

Moron-a-thon, Part Two

I pray for anyone’s soul who can anger me to the point of ruining one of my specials. I had the purveyor on the phone, screaming at him for his incompetence. I demanded that they remove the fish, and bring me something to replace it with. I was not pleased in the slightest that they would:

A. Sell a fish that cannot be served.

B. Try to tell me that my new fish would cost extra.

C. Try to scam me on both of them.

They brought me a Mahi Mahi. A fish which generally has about 55% food waste to it. This joker tries telling me that the fish wasn’t cut by him (Chilean), and that he cannot speak for its condition. I saw red. I verbally tore his head off for trying to tell me that he would be OK with selling a useless product for profit, allowing below subpar items out of his place, and being a spineless worm for not taking responsibility for the price. I got my fish for cheaper, finally, but he left me with one final jab: He forgot to skin the Mahi Mahi sides.