November 2024

Journal 11.26.24

When I begin work like this I quickly become exhausted—like exhaustion is in my bones. I’ve fileted three or four fish. But each time I lift the knife I’m aware of another possibility in the butchering. And another. An infinity begins to weigh. Of everything I do not know. Doubt sets in like forest fire. I know how to filet a fish and how to dry it on a rack for the day the whole tray wrapped in plastic for a crispy skin tomorrow. But what about raw? I slice a piece. Chewy without flavor I spit it out. Just shy of nauseated. Isn’t this sashimi? But it’s so bad… yes this I know. A fish fresh out of water sliced raw with no accoutrements is rarely good. Ok so what about tomorrow? Or in two days? Or three? Or seven or fourteen or twenty-one? But how thick to slice it and yes thicker when aged and thinner when fresh… what am I doing? Is this even the season for raw Rockfish? They bite in the spring and fall when the little fish are swimming in and when they’re swimming back out yes I know this with certainty because I’ve just found them in the striper’s stomach the scent of sardines and it was a pleasing scent like the fresh salt air of Sicily. But I don’t know when striper tastes best. I just don’t know. I don’t know so many things. But I’ve learned to keep my work area so very clean. Because frustration mounts and a knife out of line a crooked pair of scissors a spatula returned to the wrong hook a kitchen towel balled up instead of folded yes the slightest thing out of place may send me plummeting into an existential inferno I CAN’T DO THIS I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING yes I’ve faced this so many times alone hours and hours over the cutting board long before the sun rises and long before the staff arrives and over the cutting board long after the sun has set long after the staff has left. Doubt has become my closest companion. So I breathe in. I breathe out. With heavy limbs and heavy eyes. Yes during these times I still drink too much coffee. It’s like a drug. 13 in one day. I begin to set and break records for myself. Then I can’t keep track. I start drinking the concentrated cold brew straight. I buy it in bulk 5 gallon jugs. And I’m exhausted but I don’t sleep. I’m fileting fish in my half-dreams. And I’m angry. It’s become some sort of torturous game: once you filet three more fish you will fall asleep. But first you must separate the eyes and hearts and the swim bladders and the livers and the scales into different containers for later use. And you must keep the belly attached to the collar and separate these cuts too. And the filets must be wiped clean don’t you dare touch them with water. And wrap them in cloth and seal them shut. And the head must be removed from the bones and these must be stored in a fish tub and…

     My alarm rings it’s 5AM. And I get out of bed and tuck my little A. in nice and warm my little A. sleeping beside me an angel my little love my world my…I make my americano and I haven’t dropped the coffee tamper this morning so that’s a very good sign when I’m clumsy in the morning it is not a good sign. And I sit with my coffee beneath the lamplight and open a book on fish and I study the cuts and I study the cure and I study the marinade and Jiro says this fish is best in spring and that fish is best in winter and that people like this fish when it’s farm raised it’s more tender but he doesn’t care because the wild fish has more flavor and that sometimes a chew is nice with nigiri and… they put this book together in the 90’s. The master was in his 60’s. But he worked for 30 more years. He is 99. He retired only two years ago. And I think well there’s no competing with that. And I think I don’t have to know everything to serve something. And if I have 12 courses then maybe that’s just 12 or so things I need to know. And if I know those 12 or so things very well I can serve them to people and they will be happy. And soon I will know 13 things then 14 and yes yes. But I’m fileting Rockfish I bought so much of it and maybe I bought too much and I’m worried that I spent too much but I need to practice and what am I going to do with all of this Rockfish and I wrote a list of things: filet it, smoke it, age it, cure it, dry it like katsuobushi yes yes and no nothing will go to waste it will be preserved in such and such a manner I will sell it at the farmers market. But I must work quickly work work work quicky now and it’s too expensive for mistakes and this learning is very heavy.

     And I’m fileting fish and I’m thinking of the story that I’m carving into time. I’ve been looking into the past to find myself. But yes the past is filled with horrible things the horrible things are what the people think belong to me. And the good things maybe I’m not I’m not the right man for the good things because they don’t belong to me. And I’m in my head about it the touch and taste of vinegared collard greens the smoky hog the cornmeal fried catfish the buttermilk fried chicken. And I’m in my head about the thin slices of aged fish the sashimi the nigiri the rice… and I’m a respectful chap a good lad… so I can lean on the past but I don’t think it’s right to let it hold me up. The past does not belong to me. And so my identity is somewhere in the future. I’ll have to forge my own path to get there.

Journal 11.18.24

I stood outside. Gazing. I’d just closed the coop the chickens roosting on roof beams. The earth was cold and bare and smoke of oak hung in the air. And it was snowing: and I thought no that isn’t right it’s not supposed to snow. And I thought well it isn’t even cold enough for snow. A dark force swayed through tree limbs. And I thought there is something else in the darkness beyond evil I thought no it isn’t evil there. We call it evil why? Because we cannot see? There’s something else out there. And I watched it. And I thought I see snow but there is no snow. And I nodded and said aloud no snow. And I slid open the door and walked inside. And closed it on the darkness. And passed crackling embers and soft sounds reached me from the upstairs television a children’s movie: Moana. And she said He was a demigod of the land and sea. And I smiled watching my curly-haired rug rats mouth’s gone agape. Enthralled. And the house was warm with them and purred its quiet sounds my babies are safe they are safe they are safe and sleep came over their eyes safe to enter darkness for dreams my curly-haired goddesses of land and sea. And I can’t get to sleep and I can’t get to sleep and I can’t get to sleep Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil… and Hail mary full of grace the lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb jesus BOOM! and Mrs. Consilvio is coming through the overhead speaker into the fourth-grade classroom and I’m dressed in a white cotton collared shirt tucked into navy pressed belted shorts and white socks peak out above oxford uniform shoes and I hate it I hate it I hate it there and Glory be to the father and to the son and to the holy spirit as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end amen…

     And this is crazy. I don’t think about it often. I just work through it I just work through it. This is crazy. I’m assembling the wire shelving for the dehydrators and the sheet pan rack covered in zipper plastic for the fermentations and I have these big shiny new refrigerators with the bright lights and one of them is meant for hanging fish to age. Intensify the flavor. Increase the texture. And this is crazy what I’m doing since I’ve stopped and thought about it I’m not working through it I’m not working passed it I’m thinking about it yes yes I’m thinking about this restaurant that I’m opening and I can see it now this vision I’ve had for many many years—like a dream. I suppose like a dream. I inch closer to admitting a dream a dream! A dream? And I think this place makes no sense it’s not a restaurant it’s an art installation of food. This small place… I have so many big glass jars. And I’m terrified what am I going to do with them what am I going to do here what am I going to make what will I serve I have no idea but I think I have so many ideas and I will serve them yes I will serve my ideas and my thoughts and my gasping breaths and my moments of tiny children warm and when ideas turn to sleep that doesn’t come I’ll close my eyes and I’ll serve the rosary repeat repeat repeat prayer yes I’ll pray in meditation yes I’ll serve that I’ll serve prayers. And I think how crazy all this is the woman in the parking lot asked what kind of restaurant we were opening and I said the best restaurant in the world! and I was being facetious and she laughed. But I wasn’t being facetious and I smiled because I’d said it aloud because it’s crazy and one shouldn’t admit crazy things like that it’s crazy to try to be like that and it’s crazy to be like that and I wonder what the others thought when they were building their best restaurants in the world? when people didn’t understand when people asked aren’t you going to push people away with prices like that? and they responded yes I do hope so because this will never work if the people who were always going to dislike it come no it won’t work if we market it to the people who won’t enjoy it. It will work because we will tell the people who will enjoy it. And those people will come from near and those people will travel from far and those people will journey from wide. And I think yes yes it is crazy to open a place like this.

(Audio) Journal 11.5.24