Bluefin sushi, delicious self denial

So, what to do with several kilos of freshly-caught tuna? I gave this long hard thought but, from the outset, there was really only one option: eat it raw.

I’ve eaten more sushi than I can possibly remember (the Blue Ribbon in Brooklyn stands out), but I didn’t have a clue where to start when it came to preparing it. So I enlisted Ned, doctor, charmingly-witty cynic, good friend. Oh, and a dab hand with raw fish.

Together, with a little help from Su and Kate (Chino too), we prepared the mother of all sushi fests. We set aside any niggling doubts about eating Bluefin and carefully filed the guilt on the freshly-dusted shelf of self denial.

Ned did the rice and the rolls, I sliced the fish into firm, ruby-red morsels of tantalising tuna flesh. 

On the side, we added a little salmon for variety, including wonderful rolls filled with rice and crispy fried salmon skin. 

We prepared fiery wasabi and pickled ginger, poured thick, creamy soya sauce into dipping bowls.

Then we sat on the terrace, the sun setting over the mountains of Morocco on the horizon on the far side of the Strait of Gibraltar, and we ate. And ate. We devoured the lot. The fish was sweet yet salty, dense yet creamy, lean but fatty too. Words fail me. Nothing I could write would do justice to this formidable fish, which only hours before had been swimming in the strait.

Did it taste better because Bluefin is on the verge of extinction? Probably. The thought that this fish was a rare, rare treat, that every bite should, really, be illegal, that this was not something to be repeated, all of that no doubt worked its way to the taste buds. How far had this beautiful, magnificent beast roamed on its travels? What seas and oceans could we taste with each nibble? How could anything possibly taste this good? And, of course, ever the pragmatists, what on earth would it cost to eat this much tuna in a restaurant?

There’s still loads of tuna left, frozen in meal-sized packs in my dad’s freezer. I’ll be eating more of that in the coming weeks. But when it’s done, it’s back to the ban for me. I’m sticking to my guns. We should all stop eating tuna. I’ll be a beacon for that cause. I’ll pontificate endlessly and complain incessantly. I’ll do my best to explain at every opportunity why we should eat fish sustainably, why we should keep Bluefin off the menu. But please, I beg of you, don’t hold me to account if my dad turns up with another one of these beauties.