Big Fish

I didn't know what real salmon was until I moved to the Northwest. When I ordered grilled salmon for my first dinner in Seattle I was shocked to see the bright pink fish that arrived on my plate. During my three years living there I ate wild Alaskan salmon raw, grilled and poached, but mostly I enjoyed eating it smoked. This was especially surprising to me, raised Jewish in New York City where I had mistakenly believed that thinly sliced salty lox was the only smoked salmon out there. The salmon I discovered in the NW was thick and flavorful and widely available. I didn't eat it with cream cheese and a bagel. I preferred eating it with my hands. So when I visited Seattle last weekend to celebrate the Jewish New Year with my fiance and friends,  I had the perfect excuse to visit the Ballard Farmer's Market where I was handed heavenly samples of wild Alaskan king salmon smoked in brown sugar and garlic or maple and wine. I bought a piece and saved it for my last dinner before heading back to the Midwest, recognizing that it's one of the local foods I'd sacrifice by moving this long distance.

But somehow Seattle fish followed me back to Michigan. Yesterday I attended a school district meeting in a small town outside of Ann Arbor where someone referred to the "World Famous" Pike Place Market and it's "fish" philosophy. It wasn't the first time I'd heard about this. Back in July when I began my rotation in long term care I started each morning by attending the daily management meetings. I learned that the head administrator had started only a month or so earlier and was eager to bring some energy and enthusiasm to what was a pretty drab place. On my first day he asked me to select the winning "fish." He laid out a bunch of folded notes on the table and I selected one. I had no idea what these "fish" were for. He explained that they were complimentary notes that residents and staff could fill out, commending a staff member's performance or positive attitude. "You're from Seattle, you must know the Pike Place Fish Market." I nodded. I thought of the busy tourist attraction where the fishmongers would toss the purchased fish to one another in a call and response manner, every so often throwing a fake fish at an unsuspecting person in the crowd. It was a cute shtick but I had no idea what this had to do with anything. Apparently there was some greater philosophical underpinning, but I wondered if anyone present at the meeting had actually been there. 

After yesterday's meeting I was in my preceptor's office and noticed the Fish! book on her shelf, so I borrowed it and read it last night. It's one of those Who Moved My Cheese? types of self-help for the workplace books that is annoyingly oversimplified, perhaps a total lie but ultimately well-intentioned and a good motivational device that asserts four main ideas: Choose your attitude, Play (have fun while you work), Make their day (engage with those you work with and work for), and Be present. These concepts are all based upon the Pike Place Fish Market, and I think they're pretty good principles to incorporate into the workday.

When it comes to actually buying fish, I'll take Ballard over the Pike Place Market any day. But while I'm living 2500 miles away, turning my nose up at the ubiquitous farmed Atlantic pathetic excuse for salmon, counting down the weeks until I'm back in the NW (8!), these small references to Seattle make my day. Until then I certainly can work on being present, taking time to play and choosing a positive attitude - all good skills to develop when working in schools.

Fish Food for Thought

When a relationship between two people doesn't work out, there used to be the consolatory saying, "there are plenty of other fish in the sea." But this is no longer the case, because with fish populations depleted from our oceans, there aren't other fish in the sea. What, then, is a fish lover like me to do?

I've always loved salmon. I don't remember the first time I tried it but I know that sometime after my mother and I read Andrew Weil's "8 Weeks to Optimum Health" when I was in high school, it became a staple in my diet. It didn't need to be dressed up too much, it's pink hue and rich, fatty flavor were enough to satisfy my simple taste. I thought I had it good. Then I moved to the Northwest.

When I drove from New York to Seattle just two summers ago, I spent a couple of weeks on the road, eating fairly well until I left Chicago. Relying on quick and easy foods, my vegetarian diet (read: cereal, rice cakes, peanut butter and larabars) was leaving me craving something heartier. I was in need of protein, and I really wanted fish, so when my friend Julie's family took me out to dinner the first night I arrived in Seattle I was excited to see wild salmon on the menu. But I barely recognized the dish when it arrived at my table. I'd never seen salmon that color - not a pale, pastel pink but a bright, bold almost orange-red fish that was completely delicious. For the next seven days I ate salmon every chance I could. When Seattleites would tell me they'd grown sick of salmon having been raised on it in some shape or form every night of the week I was incredulous and envious.

Last week I was cleaning my room while watching this year's TED talks, and came across Dan Barber's talk, "How I fell in love with a fish." He provides an entertaining overview of the realities of the fish farming business and the need and potential for building more sustainable practices. I was heartbroken. And if that wasn't enough of an eye-opener, the feature article in tomorrow's New York Times magazine, "Tuna's End," drives home the realities of the future of fish (in this case the bluefin tuna). As Paul Greenberg writes, "Their global decline is a warning that we just might destroy our last wild food."

From a nutritional standpoint fish are a boon to the health conscious: they are a great source of protein and essential fatty acids (ie. "good fats"). But over the years there many people have been reluctant to embrace fish due to growing concerns around mercury levels and farming practices. Yesterday I came across another reason for concern: the FDA is considering approval for genetically altered salmon. Add to the mix the depletion of entire aquatic species, and frankly that's a bit too much guilt to chew on. Responsible consumers can stay abreast of the latest updates through the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch. One way to ensure the future of fish is to protect the health of our waters. Oxbow Farms, for example, has an oxbow lake that serves as an important salmon habitat and they are certified Salmon-Safe, maintaining fish-friendly farming practices. This just another reminder that we are all part of the same broader web of environmental interconnectedness.

Right now the only thing I can do is be mindful of these issues, limit my fish consumption to support fishing practices that I agree with and make sure to spread this information to others. And when I feel morally taxed by all these principles, I can kick back and play with a brainteaser: how to pronounce ghoti.