This is not the story I wanted to tell.

I saw this contest on Steamy Kitchen and my head exploded just a little bit. Leave a comment, any comment, and maybe win something that I have absolutely no chance of affording. And, like a Good Universe, it sent the prize my way.

One fresh, filleted and ready-to-experiment with Kona Kampachi. Sushi grade (sashimi! tartare!). My mind reeled with the possibilities, and I even asked perfect strangers for advice (grill it? that sounds awesome, but the timing might be touchy. Contact a sushi restaurant for rice? Oh that’s so cute! Wait, were you serious? You were? Seriously. A restaurant. For rice.) I danced when the email came, telling me the shipment was on its way, and I salivated at all the ways I could play in the kitchen. And since my progeny won’t TOUCH filleted fish, I knew the majority of that delicate deliciousness was mine allllll mine.

And, like a Good Universe, it arranged for the delivery of my $17/lb kampachi to be delivered while I was at school. Into the excited hands of My Sainted Mama.

I get upset just thinking about what happened next. I might just faint, y’all hold my hands.

I came home to the distinct odor of cooked fish. My heart sank as I walked into the kitchen. It was late, and most of the cleanup had already happened. I looked in the fridge, and found…. this

Mama came out of her room. “That fish was DELICIOUS! I saved you some! It’s in the fridge, on a wrapped plate.”

I pulled the plate out of the fridge, and swallowed the lump in my throat. My stomach churned. “Mom? How did you cook it?”

She looked at me like I’d suddenly developed a second nose. “Well I cooked it like I always do!” she sniffed, obviously a bit put out.

Nonstick pan, sprayed with cooking spray. No spices, herbs, or flavorings. Not even a whiff of ginger or soy sauce. Thoroughly cooked.

It does make you want to weep, doesn’t it? Um. Here, have a tissue and hang on. There’s more.

I came home after work the next day, ready to make tartare (tart apple and lemon juice with herbs) and it was already wrapped and in the freezer.

*sobs*

5 comments to This is not the story I wanted to tell.

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