Last month I went “camping” with my parents on Assateague Island. The second night I was there, we of course had a multi-course meal, consisting of crabs, shrimp, corn and — of course — crabs again, finished with BLTs (normal to end a meal with BLTs, yes?)

But between crabs round one and crabs round two, something horrific happened. We somehow lost our beloved crab crackers (red, seen above). I don’t like them that much, but they are my dad’s favorite.

Our worst fear: that they were already in the dumpster, rolled up with the newspaper and crab shells.

There was about 5 minutes of panic. What would we do? How were we going to eat the rest of our crabs tonight and for life? How could we possibly go on, having thrown away an important gadget? I suggested we find another tool. Like a beer can or one of the 1000 tools in my dad’s truck. But my dad couldn’t be reasoned with. He was in serious distress, and said he was going in the dumpster.

Luckily he was about 15 Miller High Lifes in at this point, so he was moving rather slowly. But he didn’t stop repeating “I’m going in” as he tried to get up from the table. In a few minutes we found them, hidden under the second layer of newspaper.

This brought up some startling realizations about our priorities. If you accidentally threw away a kitchen item in a moment of crisis, would you dumpster dive to save it? Would would you go in for? What would you let go?

10. Chocolate Covered Corn Dog – Orange County Fair

Could there be anything more American than dipping a hot dog in batter, deep frying it and eating it off a stick? Why yes, there could be. You could cover it in chocolate and put sprinkles on top, a treat that was found at both the OC Fair and neighboring San Diego County Fair. My Burning Kitchen has more on food at the San Diego fair. (Photo: www.myburningkitchen.com)

9. Deep Fried Kool-Aid – San Diego County Fair

In another strong showing for California’s other great fair — and originator of last year’s hash brown covered hot dog, San Diego debuts what is surely the trashiest food ever conceptualized. It’s just unclear why they didn’t wrap it in bacon. (Photo: Cuttlefish)

8. Deep Fried Butter on a Stick – Iowa State Fair

Texas may have invented deep fried butter at their own fair a few years back, but Iowa thought to put it on a stick. See, America, we can do great things when we work together. Yes, this involves frying an entire stick of butter, and yes, you simply have to watch the video for full effect.

7. Buffalo Chicken in a Flapjack – Texas State Fair

The first of several entries from the Lone Star state, this monstrosity is a chicken strip, coated in pancake batter and jalapeño bread crumbs, then deep fried and…you guessed it — eaten on a stick. (Photo: State Fair of Texas)

6. Red Velvet Funnel Cake – Florida State Fair

Funnel cake has fallen behind on the list of outrageous fair foods recently. After fried beer and fried Coke, plain old fried dough starts to look pale by comparison. But this year we saw funnel cake get a new southern fried twist that injects some new life into it…and probably injects all kinds of chemicals too. Why eat fried dough when you can eat red fried dough? (Photo: Bob B. Brown)

 Next: The Top 5 state fair foods

I am a west coaster born and bred; my family hails from San Diego and I happen to live in Seattle, which in many ways is the antithesis of the deep South. That being said, I don’t know how it happened — maybe Paula Deen is a long-lost-great-aunt-twice-removed or something (fingers crossed!) — but I harbor an intense love for Southern comfort food. Sadly, up here in the somber Northwest, I am rarely presented with the opportunity to try my hand at whipping up a grand dixie feast. With the exception of my impressive cole slaw making superpowers, I am pretty inexperienced in cooking Southern food.

So when ES was presented with the opportunity to preview Nathalie Dupree & Cynthia Graubart’s newest cookbook, Southern Biscuits, I knew this was a perfect chance. Fresh off the heels of an authentic creole food binge, I figured it was only fair to prove my love by giving Southern cooking a go myself. Southern Biscuits addressed a double whammy of insecurity, actually — not only am I lacking in the Southern cooking department, I am also mildly suspicious of baking in general. It involves so much precision, patience, adherence to directions…basically all of my weaknesses. Though Nathalie is a James Beard winner, she certainly had her work cut out for her with this book. Teaching a baking-skeptical Seattleite how to craft perfect Southern biscuits is no small feat.

Plus I had been slightly dubious about the breadth (no pun intended) of biscuit options. I mean, how many variations could there be? Turns out, about a million. After it covers the basics, Southern Biscuits also includes recipes for things you can do with biscuits, such as breakfast sandwiches, casseroles, bread puddings, etc. While some of the more complex recipes in the back of the book were tempting, I knew I shouldn’t get too overzealous. I decided to go with an intermediate biscuit recipe that included one of my very favorite ingredients: sweet potatoes.

Sweet Potato (or Pumpkin) Biscuits

2 1/4 cups commercial or homemade self-rising flour, divided
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon (optional)
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg (optional)
1/3 cup chilled shortening or lard, roughly cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1 cup mashed cooked sweet potatoes or pumpkin puree
1/4 cup milk (optional)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

Select the baking pan by determining if a soft or crisp exterior is desired. For a soft exterior, use an 8- or 9- inch cake pan, pizza pan, or ovenproof skillet where the biscuits will nestle together snugly, creating the soft exterior while baking. For a crisp exterior, select a baking sheet or other baking pan where the biscuits can be placed wider apart, allowing air to circulate and creating a crisper exterior, and brush the pan with butter.

Fork-sift or whisk 2 cups of flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a large bowl, preferably wider than it is deeper, and set aside the remaining 1/4 cup of flour. Scatter lard and flour as if snapping thumb and fingers together (or use two forks or knives, or a pastry cutter) until the mixture looks like a well-crumbled feta cheese, with no piece larger than a pea. Shake the bowl occasionally to allow the larger pieces of fat to bounce to the top of the flour, revealing the largest lumps that still need rubbing. If this method took longer than 5 minutes, place the bowl in the refrigerator for 5 minutes to rechill the fat.

Make a deep hollow in the center of the flour with the back of your hand. Scoop the sweet potatoes into the hollow and stir with a rubber spatula or large metal spoon, using broad circular strokes to quickly pull the flour into the sweet potatoes. Mix just until the dry ingredients are moistened and the sticky dough begins to pull away form the sides of the bowl. If too dry, add 1 to 4 tablespoons of milk.

Lightly sprinkle a board or other clean surface with some of the reserved flour. Turn the dough out onto the board and sprinkle the top lightly with flour. With floured hands, fold the dough in half, and pat dough  out into a 1/3- to 1/2- inch thick round, using a little additional flour only if needed. Flour again if necessary, and fold the dough in half a second time. If the dough is still clumpy, pat and fold a third time. Pat dough out into a 1/2- inch thick round for a normal biscuit, 3/4- inch thick for a tall biscuit, and 1- inch thick for a giant biscuit. Brush off any visible flour from the top. For each biscuit, dip a 2- inch biscuit cutter into the reserved flour and cut out the biscuits, starting at the outside edge and cutting very close together, being careful not to twist the cutter. The scraps may be combined to make additional biscuits, although these scraps make tougher biscuits.

Using a metal spatula if necessary, move the biscuits to the pan or baking sheet. Bake the biscuits on the top rack of the oven for a total of 12 to 14 minutes, depending on thickness, until light golden brown. After 6 minutes, rotate the pan in the oven so that the front of the pan is now turned to the back, and check to see if the bottoms are browning too quickly. If so, slide another baking sheet underneath to add insulation and retard browning. Continue baking another 6 to 8 minutes until the biscuits are light golden brown.

When the biscuits are done, remove from over and slide them onto a rack.

The above photographic evidence of my success speaks for itself.  I would almost go as far to say it was… easy?! And now that I’ve purchased a huge sack of self-rising flour and a biscuit cutter (two necessities according to Nathalie & Cynthia), I think there are plenty more biscuits in my culinary future. As for all my biscuit leftovers, I decided to test their versatility by turning them into breakfast sliders, obviously.

Simply top a sweet potato biscuit with a tiny bit of honey (you could also use maple syrup if you’re in a McGriddle kind of mood), ham that I fried in a hot skillet for 30 seconds, a fried egg over medium, and a slice of aged swiss cheese. Decadence!

I heartily endorse Southern Biscuits for the individual looking to make their initial foray into the worlds of baking and/or Southern cooking, or just anyone who thinks that insta-dough out of the Pillsbury can = real biscuits (hey, I did for the first 25 years of my life).

In honor of my birthday, I decided to check a long-time goal off my bucket list and head down to New Orleans to experience Mardi Gras. Let’s be real, though; while beads and booze were on my radar, I was most excited for a no-holds-barred culinary tour of the Big Easy. I figured if I’ve lived this long, I might as well test the limits of what my body can handle in greasy, spicy, cholesterol-ridden creole specialties. New Orleans did not let me down, and surprisingly, neither did my arteries.

The first “morning” in the city, after waking up at 12:45pm in our cramped yet exorbitantly expensive hotel room, two of my friends and I dragged our hungover selves out of bed in search of a belated breakfast in the French Quarter. Our prayers were answered thanks to a little alley cafe called Green Goddess. We had to wait 45 minutes for our outdoor table, but since drinking in the streets is allowed (and seemingly encouraged) we downed some $7 beers to pass the time.

To start, we shared the truffled manchego cheese grits you see above. With that sheen of grease, you know heaven is inside. My friend literally licked the plate. No shame!

But this was only the beginning. There were more grits to be had at the green goddess, in the form of a classic Southern main course: shrimp & grits! These were the biggest, baddest shrimp my mouth has ever come into contact with… and I have consumed more than my fair share of shrimp.

Clearly some alcohol was needed to wash down this feast, and it came in the form of the Lightnin’ Mary: “roasted yellow tomatoes and our secret concoctions, featuring Junior Johnson’s Lemon Moonshine, pickled okra and green beans.”

The very best dinner we had was at Coop’s Place. This Decatur Street bar had been recommended by a handful of people and despite an unassuming exterior, I was confident we would find culinary treasure inside. I was right (as always) —  I experienced one of the hands-down best dishes of my entire life: jambalaya supreme.

A heaping portion of rabbit, andouille sausage, tasso ham, and shrimp all tossed in spicy creole rice. If that sounds not meat-y enough for you, you can always go with Coop’s Taste Plate, a hearty sampling of shrimp creole, red beans & rice, rabbit & sausage jambalaya, and of course, a huge grease-drenched Cajun fried chicken leg proudly inserted into the center of it all. Not for the faint of heart.

The morning of infamous Fat Tuesday itself, it was time for one of the most famous breakfast spots in New Orleans – the tried and true Cafe du Monde. Strong chicory coffee and piping hot fried dough is a potent wake-up combination and a worthwhile way to spend a healthy allotment of one’s morning calories. Someone assessed the situation: “It looks like a cocaine factory exploded all over our table!” An apt description.

Despite the impressive amount of fried dough in our stomachs, just a few hours later we were ready for our next endeavor, gigantic po-boys at Johnny’s. One of the best places in New Orleans to grab one of these signature sandwiches, Johnny’s food sounds deceptively simple — take a french roll, stuff a bunch of fried seafood and/or meat inside, and call it a day. Order it “dressed” (mayo, tomato, lettuce, and pickles) for an extra 60 cents, or you can even get crazy and add cheese.

I got a half catfish, half shrimp dressed po-boy and a side of potato salad, which I had the genius idea to slather on the inside of my french roll. I did not regret that decision for an instant! Even though I often have trouble finishing a bland 6″ Subway selection, I found myself stuffing my face with the entire 12″+ Po-Boy. I would do it again right now if given the chance.

They say the human body is made up of 80% water, but I’m pretty sure my human body is now made up of 80% this:

Until next time, mon ami, as they say in New Orleans: laissez les bons temps rouler!

Why does sushi only come from Asia? Cultures all across the globe each developed their own varieties of noodles, sandwiches, sausages and stews. But only people in one corner of the world ever thought to roll all of their ingredients into one beautiful bite-sized piece. Until now. At Miya’s Sushi in New Haven, Connecticut, chef Bun Lai explores what the world might taste like if everyone made sushi.

Bun took over the kitchen at Miya’s a few years ago from his mother, who had already built a loyal local following for her traditional Japanese sushi rolls. But instead of sticking with the formula, he transformed Miya’s into what is almost certainly America’s most inventive sushi restaurant. He eschews traditional, overfished sushi ingredients like bluefin tuna, red snapper and unagi, instead focusing on sustainable species like bonito tuna and catfish, and incorporates them into a wide variety of inventive rolls listed on a magazine-sized menu that comes complete with historical footnotes and detailed eating instructions.

In the roll pictured above, Bun explores what it might have been like if sushi came from, say, north Africa. The roll encompasses ingredients found in Ethiopia: a tempura of rare tuna, goat cheese, flying fish caviar, apricots, avocado, pickled radish and a Berbere spice mix, all wrapped in a thin, housemade teff grain flatbread. Biting into it is like playing mindgames with your tongue — it has the texture and proportions of sushi exactly right, but with ingredients that just aren’t supposed to be there. If you can get past that, it also happens to be delicious.

And what would sushi taste like if it came from Guadalajara or Georgia? Keep reading…

Inspired by the mole poblano that the mothers of his Mexican sous chefs routinely send up north, Bun created a sushi roll that mimics mole’s complex sweet-and-spicy flavor. His playful sauce incorporates strawberries, bananas, chocolate, ancho chilies, pumpkin seeds and Oreos, and is slathered over a roll of shrimp, avocado and cream cheese, topped by a tender slice of teriyaki sunfish.

“The Greatest Sushi South of the Mason-Dixon” — fried catfish, okra, grits, cheddar cheese, spring onions and parsley — all wrapped in cornmeal and fried as crispy as a green tomato.

The Kanibaba roll brings the haute sushi treatment to an Applebee’s standby. Potato skins take the place of seaweed and are wrapped around jumbo soft-shell crabs, then topped with toasted havarti cheese and lemon dill sauce. Crawling around the rolls are fried Asian shore crabs, dime-sized predators that somehow made their way to New England and became the bane of local fishermen because they eat up shellfish larvae. Bun takes them off their hands and serves them here — you pick the crispy crabs up and pop them into your mouth whole.

Moving on to the great white north, Miya’s Sakura Sashimi is inspired by the way Inuit people eat frozen raw fish in wintertime. Tilapia sashimi is sliced super-thin, marinated in fresh beet pulp and frozen. The result is an icy slab of beet-flavored sashimi that melts on your tongue.

To wash it all down — sake infused with flavors like Cherokee sumac, foraged pine needles and Chinese chili peppers.

While some of the concepts might sound kitschy, they’re all executed perfectly. These aren’t gimmicky “sushi” rolls. Each bite actually tastes the way sushi is supposed to taste — a quality slab of seafood subtly accented by its supporting ingredients — only with flavors you’ve never tasted in rolled form.

Miya’s proves that sushi doesn’t have to be Japanese after all. It also has the honor of being the first restaurant ES heartily recommends as well worth a drive to Connecticut.

Miya’s Sushi
68 Howe Street; New Haven, CT
203.777.9760
www.miyassushi.com

(Photos: Sakura – Bettina Hansen, All others: Jimmy Oca)

D.C. has a long list of traditional southern-style restaurants, so you’d be forgiven for wondering why it needed another.  But you shouldn’t wonder after seeing Eatonville‘s unorthodox starter above — a single fried hushpuppy the size of a baseball filled with leek fondue and rock shrimp. It is seriously effing delicious.

Set on the same 14th Street corner as sister restaurant Busboys and Poets, Eatonville is named in honor of Zora Neale Hurston, the Harlem renaissance author and playwright. Hurston grew up in Eatonville, Florida, one of the first southern towns created by African-Americans after slavery ended. The name really made an impression on me as I realized how thoughtful they’ve been in putting the place together. From picket fences and rocking chairs flanking the bar to drinks served in mason jars, this was more than another DC restaurant with southern fare… I felt like I’d hopped a train to a small town in the Deep South.

After the hushpuppy, Eatonville actually gets a little more traditional, with apps like gumbo, fried green tomatoes, and corn muffins. Hot and soft, the muffins are a must. The fried green tomatoes are classic, light, and easy to share.

Fortunately, there’s still some creativity among the entrees, like the crab burger — a crab cake sandwich with arugula and pickled onions. I don’t know if it’d pass muster in Baltimore, but it’s better than most I’ve had in DC.

I’ve been dying to try the Cajun mushroom loaf —  but haven’t gotten past the temptation of the more traditional items yet, like the wonderful fish and grits. Dusted in cornmeal and perfectly fried, the fish is surprisingly light. The jalapeno grits kick things up a notch, while the collards and tomato butter provide depth and balance the spice.

If you want your soul food fix in a lighter package, all of the four salads are available with chicken, shrimp, oysters, or vegan chicken. Unfortunately, nowhere on the menu does the chef explain what vegan chicken is, despite the fact that it’s also an entrée.

For dessert, I can only tell you about the bread pudding and lemon basil sorbet, which were both excellent. I wish I could tell you about the peach cobbler that we ordered, but we were brought bread pudding instead. It was good, but it was really carried by the ice cream and blueberry sauce it shares the plate with (not pictured here). Anyway, I highly recommend the sorbet. It was sweet, tart, and light — the perfect end to the meal.

Then there are the cocktails. I ordered the Sweet Heat, a refreshing mango juice, kicked up with Tabasco infused vodka. My brother went for the Pickled Mule. If you haven’t had a Moscow Mule, it’s a mind-blowingly delicious ginger-packed vodka cocktail. But the Pickled Mule adds muddled pickle… Fucking pickle!? Trust me; it is absolutely delicious. My Sweet Heat was damn near perfect, but I kept staring jealously at my brother’s ice cold copper cup of Pickled Mule. I’m getting my own next time.

A couple of service hiccups aside, I love this place. I can’t stop recommending it to friends who want to get dinner. Eatonville isn’t just a restaurant that serves southern fare – without forcing anything or being kitschy, it’s a cozy southern getaway worthy of its moniker.

Eatonville
2121 14th Street, NW
Washington, DC
202.332.ZORA
www.eatonvillerestaurant.com

(Photos: Eatonville)

I know it isn’t as exciting as India or Japan, but if you want to take up casual alcoholism in the United States, move south. To celebrate summer’s start, here are my best recommendations for getting drunk in public without breaking the bank. Gone are the days of $10 martinis and handcrafted cocktails. This is Myrtle Beach —  If the drinks are more than $6, you’re probably paying too much.

Liberty Tap Room
7651 North Kings Hwy
Thoughts: Eat here and stay for trivia at 8pm on Thursdays. Appetizer, dinner, all-night-drinks for four — $105. Even better? We came in 2nd in trivia and had $25 taken off our bill as a prize. The bar is off the parking lot of the local Food Lion, so you can play with the carts when you leave. Trust me, it’s better than an amusement park.

The Streets
Anywhere and everywhere
Thoughts: Although I witnessed two men being arrested for public drunkenness, there are no apparent open container laws being enforced. Everyone walked around with beers and sometimes vodka in plastic cups.

River City Cafe
208 73rd Avenue North
Thoughts: Burgers, wings, beer and complimentary peanuts on every table. The only beer on tap is Natty Light (win), and is one of the most expensive at $4 for a huge glass. Free souvenir cups with purchase of soft drinks, but your server will be easily convinced to give them to you for your beers. These came in handy for street drinking (see above).

Oceanview Cafe
Inside the Long Bay Resort
Thoughts: Above average cheese fries are perfect for happy hour. Well drinks — the amazing price of $3.35 from 5pm-7pm. They will also sell you beers to take to the pool, beach, your room, or….anywhere. Win.

Droopy’s
5201 North Kings Highway
Thoughts: A *very* local bar. Live music.  Beers are $2.50 and come in plastic cups. If you’re female, you’ll be the only out-of-towners and men might pay for your drinks and your taxi without trying to go home with you. Talk about Southern hospitality!

Fat Tuesday’s
1318 Celebrity Circle
Thoughts: Yes, this is a chain. This place was crawling with tourists AND locals, so it was the best of both worlds. Oh, and they make daquiris with grain alcohol. A medium is $5.75, add an extra shot for $1. If you’re anything like me, you’ll only need one for the entire night. If you have two, you won’t remember any of your night.

There are few times when the BF and myself have an opportunity to cook together. Either he’s cooking a pasta dish or grilling some chicken which needs no more than one person, or I’ve taken over the kitchen and he doesn’t dare come near me, which is a shame really as the BF can actually cook.

On this occasion our cooking together was brought on as we were hosting a birthday brunch for our friend Butter, who has recently moved to DC from Jersey. Butter and I were having a cocktail at our local haunt and there were two women dining at the bar. Butter couldn’t quite determine what they were eating but was intrigued — so she asked. It was shrimp and grits. Butter had heard of grits but never tried them, so I figured shrimp and grits would be a nice surprise for her birthday brunch.

Personally I’m no fan of grits — not appealing to look at and not particular appealing to eat — just my opinion. The BF, on the other hand, loves them, so I tasked him with the grits while I would tackle the shrimp.

I have to admit, the BF’s grits were great. He used Paula Deen’s baked grit recipe, making a few changes. He substituted the milk with buttermilk, replaced the cheddar with parmesan and doubled the garlic. In addition to the stated baking time the grits were kept in the oven on a low heat for an extra half hour. I just might be a convert. They were creamy with a nice cheesy zing to them and the garlic was a nice touch. I’ll reserve this unhealthy indulgence to when the BF cooks again.

For the shrimp I combined 4pts paprika, 2pts garlic salt, 1pt salt, 2pts cayenne pepper, 2pts dried thyme, 2pts onion powder and a pinch of white pepper. I mixed these together and seasoned the deveined shrimp in a ziplock bag over night. I heated a little oil in a pan and sauteed the shrimp, 3-4 minutes on each side until cooked through. To the same pan I added some chopped bacon, cooked it up and added to the shrimp.  Then in the same pan I combined a cup of buttermilk, a few drops of Tabasco and a pinch of s&p, heating and deglazing until it was lightly creamy.

To serve: on a plate, place a couple of spoons of the grits, a generous serving of shrimp and a spoonful of cream.

A gifted memory is something I do not posses. My brother, on the other hand, will remember how to find my great aunt’s apartment building, even if the last time we traveled there Reagan was president.

I can only remember a few events from when I was 10 years old or younger, and one of them was balloon day. All of the kindergarten classes were led outside, given balloons, and told to release them at the count of ten.

I looked up. An abstract Seurat of boldly colored balloons. And then they floated into a hundred directions. Apparently killing sea turtles, because the next year we were no longer allowed to send plastic into the air, as we were only 60 miles from the Atlantic Ocean.

I of course didn’t want dolphins and fish and turtles to die, but that vision of carefree balloons traveling to the clouds made me happy. But I also think the rush came because I knew it was something our class wasn’t supposed to do.

I haven’t thought of that magical balloon day in years. But when I bought a six-pack of beers with hard plastic rings surrounding the necks, I thought about a change in my environmental consciousness.

80 and I picked up two flavors from Depot Street Brewing in a grocery store in Tennessee. The beer was okay, but I we were happy to buy local and I was fully intrigued by their funky red plastic holders. I tried to figure out the gimmick; it looks like they are reusable and there is a recycling program tied to returning the holders to the brewery (150 returns gets a drinker a free T-shirt).

I’m hoping to see more of this: local breweries leading the green revolution.

I think the first time I had smoked fish was in sushi, not the oft walked Jewish path of lox on a bagel with cream cheese. I had plenty of exposure to smoked salmon and smoked whitefish salad, mostly at bat mitzvah luncheons and funerals. Unfortunately, my personal smoked fish craze didn’t hit until I was living in DC, and we notoriously lack Jewish delis.

However, 80 and I just celebrated friends’ wedding in southern Florida, eating and partying our way through Sunny Isles Beach, Hollywood and West Palm Beach. And wow, it was nice to be around the Jews. I never can find the pleasure of smoked whitefish in the District. There are maybe 2 New York style delis in the area, and I haven’t fell in love with either of them.

But in Florida! Florida!

After the nuptials, 80 and I visited with my grandmother. While at lunch I schmeared smoked whitefish salad on a pumpernickel bagel (80 choose wrongly and ordered the *lean* pastrami sandwich and Mommom took down matzah brei, a bagel and hash browns). Whitefish salad is less pungent than smoked salmon, it’s creamier than a tuna salad consistency, but with a saltier, less generic taste. It also doesn’t reek of mayo.

Later that day at my aunt and uncle’s golf clubhouse, the free (!) snacks offered in the bar area were smoked whitefish salad right next to boursin cheese (It was actually quite funny, they had a chef in full whites slicing the boursin on a wooden cutting board akin to prime rib), swiss cheese triangles, broccoli florets, grape tomatoes and crackers. It was a mid-winter miracle.

So apparently we’re in week four of the New Year. I had this majestic resolution—obviously food related—but I haven’t started it yet. I will start making claims now. I will hopefully cash them in before 2011.

I will smoke a white fish. Whatever a white fish is. I will then take that smoked white fish and make a salad out of it.

There.

(Photo: PS95)