Fish Heads

This week I was able to take a cooking class through my Food and Culture class. I was excited all week because, number one, I love cooking, and, number two, my teacher told us that we would be cooking something exotic. I was picturing fruit combinations with unheard of spices. Little did I know, that exotic meant sardines.

Yes, SARDINES. Eww.

Come to find out, not all sardines are pickled in salt and oil. They were actually just small fish.

The cooking instructor eased us in to the idea of cooking sardines with a wonderfully tasty Romesco sauce, made from peppers, tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, hazelnuts and almonds. Just when the room was filled with the wonderful Romesco smells, the teacher pulled out the slimy little full, eyes-in, scales-on fish.

It doesn't bother me to look at these gross little fish, but soon to find out, we would be doing a lot more than looking at them.

The teacher first showed us how to push our fingers backwards under the fish's scales to remove each and every fingernail-like, metallic scale. By this time I was starting to freak...I don't even touch the fish to give them to the dolphins at Sea World, much less descale a fish with my own hands.

But then came the kicker, the teacher nonchalantly explained how to push your fingers right in to the little fish's gills and squeeze until it's tiny head just pops off and its innards pour out. I was starting to sweat just watching her pinch of the fish head, but it wasn't over. You had to slide your finger in to the headless fish cavity and raise your hand up, splitting the fish down the center. Once it's open, you not only have to finish cleaning out the intestines, but you also have to break the large bones and remove them piece by piece.

My knees were tingling as I looked at the vegetarian in my class, he returned my horrified look of panic.

Once the instructor had finished cleaning her fish, she immediately had us form a line to receive our 2-3 sardines. I hung back and was happily last in line, hoping that they would run out of fish, but, of course, they didn't.

When I was handed my fish to descale, I almost couldn't touch it. But I knew I couldn't be the only one in my class who didn't clean a fish, so reluctantly I began peeling off layers of slimy scales. I was doing okay, until I hit a snag and one of the fish's fins popped out in to swimming position. I almost lost it. I'm terrified of fish in the lake, I don't even want them near me, much less to pull out a fish's fin. Once I had finished descaling the slippery little sucker, it was time for the debauchery.

I carried my fish to the table, which was now covered in fish blood, innards and some sort of brown gunk (I'm assuming fish poop). Not only was I disgusted by the task at hand, but I felt like I was covered from head to toe in fish scales, I had scrubbed my hands many times, but they're sticky and clear. I stood, trying to muster enough courage to physically rip a creatures head off, but each time I looked down at the little guy all I could see was his half-winking eye, asking me to please leave his head and his body together. I couldn't do it.


I don't know what gave it away, but the instructor sensed my overwhelming repulsion to the idea of dismembering a fish, walked over to me, grabbed the fish and within a second, my fish was headless.

She made me (quite literally moved my hands) open up the body cavity, pull out the organs and break the large bones out of the fish, a job that was only slightly less miserable than actually beheading the fish.

We fried the fish, and honestly they tasted decent. But, I will never again butcher or clean my own meat. I understand there is a certain pride in cleaning your own meat, but for me, I am going to leave it to the professionals.

This simply reaffirmed my want to have meat so well butchered and cleaned by the time I see it that it is unidentifiable as an animal.

I guess I'm glad that I got to doing something a little "exotic," but I can say confidently that I would never repeat this class.