“How are you with a cleaver?” Blankly, I stare back at Phil: as a sporadic vegetarian with no experience prepping seafood of any kind, the answer is obvious. My second day behind the fish counter started at 8:35. A large tray of Santa Barbara uni (sea urchin roe) was the first challenge to tackle: separating the individual roe and blotting them with a paper towel before repackaging them into .2-pound packs. These mustard colored pieces look like tongues and have the consistency of miso paste.
Soon after I got a lesson in shucking oysters—Miagi oysters from Tomales Bay. Use a towel as a buffer in case the tool punches through the shell, start from the back end and twist the shucking knife to loosen the shell. It took a few tries and some shards of shell down the front of my sweatshirt before I got the hang of puncturing the shells which lift with a satisfying pop like opening a soda can.
Prawn time. I learned to slit the backs just enough to expose the tract to be removed—submerging the prawn while scooping out the guts makes for a cleaner process. The day continued with more dismembering—whole crabs from Eureka that arrived neatly stacked and packed on ice. Don’t stack the crabs flat on their backs, nor standing vertical. Angling the crabs in the case at a slight angle prevents the juices from draining out.
When choosing a crab, test its weight—a dense feel is better than a light body that could be dry due to cracks. Two deliveries had arrived within five minutes of each other, it was lunchtime and there was a crowd of customers waiting to be served. “Just follow me,” said Phil, launching right into the next lesson. Wedging a thumb between the base of the top shell and the body makes it easy to separate, keeping the butter contained as well. The gills slip off easily; a twist should remove the tail end and mouthpieces. Rinse or spray with water to thoroughly clean the inside. “Speed is key,” as I quickly learned. After pulling the legs and claws off, the pieces are ready to be cracked. The body is then cleaved in two halves that are each separated into thirds for more easy access to the meat inside.
During the lunch rush I occupied myself by doing dishes and packing yuzu topiko. Styrofoam boxes filled with iced sides of salmon kept arriving along with frozen packs of ikura, another shipment of black cod and a 30-pound side of tuna. After some more scaling, one of the guys looked me over, concluding, “You’re not dirty enough, go roll around in some fish.” No thanks, I’d like to keep my apron clean for a little while longer.
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