Getting fresh fish in this town is easy. Especially if you avoid the large grocery stores. There are numerous pescaderias and vendors that will sell you the daily catch. Even better, just stroll down to Fisherman's Beach when the boats come in (which they do three times a day), check out the catch, point, and start bargaining. You don't even have to know Spanish. But for us, it's even easier. We have a Fish Fairy.
Our neighbor, Manuel, works on one of the larger fishing boats. He is partially paid in fish. Whenever his family has a surplus, we are the beneficiaries, and it sure is great. During prime fishing season, our freezer is crammed with fish, and we are never without.
Whenever I hear the irregular growl of his motor and the peculiar, cute toot of his moped's horn, I know its time to trot downstairs and look at what he has brought us today. It's usually fresh Tuna or Dorado, but we sometimes see some Bonita or Sierra. On one memorable occasion, it was a giant, purple octopus. Manuel held it up to me by its head, with its tentacles swirling and grabbing. Once I got my eyes back into my head, I politely declined that one.
Most recently, Manuel brought a huge Dorado. I was trying to take a nap, so Chuck handled that transaction by himself. I came out of the bedroom to see Chuck wrestling a four foot fish up the stairs, with two very interested dogs close behind. When Manuel brings Dorado, he usually brings it to us already filleted, so I had never seen one. Boy, are they ugly.
I stood bleary-eyed in my kitchen, looking at my Beloved holding a fish that is larger than any counter space I have, wondering what on Earth we were going to do with it. He waited patiently, holding the monster, while I tried to put together a coherent thought. I finally cleared off my longest section of counter for him. He laid the Dorado down, and its tail flopped onto my stove.
We did the only sane thing a person can do in this situation; we had a party. I sharpened the knives, and Chuck set about filleting the behemoth. What a project! I do not recommend ever filleting a monster fish in your kitchen, but if you do, make sure you have plenty of newspaper.
We started making phone calls and sending out emails. Ten people was the most we could gather on such short notice. Chuck lit the grill, and I started the marinade for Pescado Zarandeado. Our guests arrived with side dishes and beer and helped with the grill and in the kitchen. We had a great meal. Half of the fish was enough to stuff us all, well, to the gills.
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