One Sexy Cephalopod

It goes without saying that new things in food are always exciting. But what about re-newed things? When I was young, growing up here in Houston, I vividly remember the beat up old Dodge van with the word SHRIMP (written in block letters with black duct tape) that used to cruise through our neighborhood on Sunday afternoons, randomly hittin' the horn, selling fresh, never frozen, head-on Gulf Shrimp. Those days are long gone. Now, I have to drive down to Palacios and call up my buddy, T-Roy, to get close to that experience.

Well, just last week, something just as fabulous as those remembered shrimp came to me at REEF: Fresh Baby Gulf Coast Squid.

Squid in my hand

I am (almost) embarrassed to admit how turned on I was by these little beauties.
Is it wrong to be stirred in such a way by such a thing? Well, if it is, then I don’t wanna be right.

There are many varieties of squid that make the Gulf their home. But this particular guy -the Atlantic Brief Squid (Lolliguncula brevis) - is very common in the Texas Bays. They rarely grow longer than 3 inches in tube length.

There are many different types of squid species in the littoral zone but very few inhabit the brackish Gulf waters.

The Atlantic Brief Squid’s habitat ranges from Maryland to Rio de la Plata, Argentina. They feed mainly on grass shrimp and small fishes. Its round fins make it less streamlined than most squid, but its most unique feature is that it is an osmoconformer (a sexy word if I ever heard one), which means its body salinity matches the ambient water salinity. This might seem unimportant to you, but when I learned this, my stomach quickly pointed out that harvesting these squid in saltier water is guaranteed to yield a sweeter, brinier morsel (similar to the results of timely oyster harvests). Note to self: I think I just found another use for my refractometer.

Squid with Texas quarter

For the foragers out there like me, cast-netting on the Bay side in The Galveston and Matagorda estuaries on a hot summer night can be very fruitful, indeed.


Crispy Texas Squid, Grilled Green Tomatoes, Cilantro-Shiso Aioli, Pickled Pepper Puree

Special Thanks to Alex Rappaport

Back on the island, post IKE

It was my first time back on the island. My first time since last summer, since those seven days without power at REEF, since I painfully tossed $10,000 worth of food in the dumpster, since my newly purchased boat melted in a raging fire at the Yacht Basin. It was my first time on Galveston Island since Ike.

I settled into my not-so-familiar-anymore routine, trying to close out those last few tables after a busy Saturday night at REEF, fighting to concentrate as my mind already starts to wander coastal. One last stop at Little Big’s to check on things, then home to load The Dude and my gear and I’m off. Windows down, music up, unconsciously on edge, waiting for that first sniff, that first scent of saltwater. And when it hits me, I am conscious of the edge, edging away.

On the road, heading South

That's The Dude: he knows how to relax

At my folks’ place with my family and we decide to take a day trip to Bolivar. I had heard that Stingaree on the Intercoastal Canal had just opened back up. Driving from the West end of the Island, the damage from Ike was still evident, everywhere: boats blown aground, sides of homes ripped open, wayward cars that the storm relocated, still standing proud.

Galveston home, post-Ike

Chevy on pier

Water Line

Waiting in line at the ferry conjured vivid childhood memories of me with my Pops at four o’clock in the morning, Dr. Pepper in one hand and Honey Bun in the other, nestled in his maroon Delta 88, waiting to cross and enter Los Patos, our duck club. We were pretty mad at those ducks back then.

A trip on the Boliver ferry is one of the best day trips from Houston: forty minutes from town and a free boat ride to a soon-to-be-again pristine Texas coastal beach and marshland. It doesn’t get much better than that. It was my daughter’s first ferry ride so she was wide-eyed and excited; I easily played the hero, knowing it wouldn’t be this easy for much longer.

Kennedy's first Ferry ride

Once we crossed, everything changed. There was shit everywhere. I was overwhelmed by so much wreckage and disorder. Chaos theory, the fragility of our lives, people missing homes, children missing toys – my mind and heart were reeling. There were hills of sand on both sides of the street, where the ‘dozers had scraped clear a path on the road. I had seen the TV and You-Tube footage, but seeing it with my own eyes was staggering. It was incredible and hard to take in. I just couldn’t get my head around it.

Wrecked dreams

As we came closer to Crystal Beach, I had mounting doubts about whether or not the rumors were true; how could Stingaree possibly have opened in the midst of this lifeless devastation? But, sure enough, there it was . . . pretty as a picture. After eating my weight in oysters and drinking six pitchers of Stingaritas (hey, I had help!), everything seemed much better.

Oysters at Stingaree

Still Beauty...

Photos Courtesy Courtney Caswell

Blackfin Tuna: The Bastard Son Makes Good (Bacon)

Blackfin Tuna

Usually, when the subject of Tuna comes up, you will hear grandiose talk of the superstars Bluefin, Yellowfin, Albacore, Big-Eye or, if you are one of the lucky ones, Toro. No one hardly ever talks about this black sheep of the family, Blackfin – could it be its smaller stature, or that it often gets confused with Bonito or that its sheer numbers and tenacity make it a real pest when trying to snag its larger cousins. If you’ve ever been offshore in a Tuna feeding frenzy, under the lights, you know what I mean. When the heat is on and time is of the essence, a 150 pound Yellowfin is always preferred to a 15 pound Blackfin, at least to your regular sports fisherman (guess I’m not such a regular guy after all).

Blackfin Tuna (Thunnus Atlanticus), also known as Bermuda Tuna, Blackfinned Albacore and Football, is a member of the Scombridae family. They range in size from 2 – 20 pounds with the largest catch on record being 45 pounds. There is some commercial interest in this fish worldwide, but virtually none in the Atlantic and Gulf regions. Blackfin are a Pelagic Species found in warmer tropical waters from Brazil to Cape Cod in large schools, usually around other tunas. They eat less fish than other members of the Tuna family and more shrimp, crab and squid, but they are one of the fastest growing tunas and reach sexual maturity in less than two years. A five-year-old Blackfin is considered old. Because of its ability to procreate quickly and its rapid growth, I see no reason why this fish is overlooked as a viable commercial harvest or a potential candidate for open ocean aquaculture. Mahi-Mahi has this same quality.

Now for the BACON!

“How did you ever come up with that?’ is a common question that just about every chef gets asked. Depending on the dish, I can usually spin a good yarn about where the dish came from: my ancestors, a muse, seasonality or divine providence. But, in the case of the Blackfin Tuna bacon, the back story is straightforward and as old as the hills: it was straight necessity, the mother kind. Last fall at REEF, we were getting a large amount of Blackfin. After butchering, two or three of those sweet little medallions made a beautiful meal. The only problem was that the last third of the loin was just too thin to use. What to do? What could I do! I did what every other red-blooded Texan would do…make Bacon!

Blackfin Tuna Bacon, Firefish, Apples, Avocado, White Soy and Miso

Louisiana Convict Fish – Falsely Accused

Sheepshead - Convicted, But Not Guilty

If you were in the Houston area in the late 80’s and 90’s, you may remember the “Bay Snapper” scandal. So called because some restaurants were using Sheepshead in place of Red Snapper and had given it the new, more marketable name of “Bay Snapper” (in the same way that Patagonian Toothfish was renamed Chilean Sea Bass). People were outraged – This was fraud! How could they misrepresent and impersonate our noble Red Snapper? Actually, I think the Sheepshead is the one who got the bad rap. Don’t get me wrong, I love Red Snapper, with its clear, slightly opaque flesh and amazing versatility, but in terms of depth of flavor, give me “Bay Snapper” anytime.

Whatever you call it -- Sheepshead, Lousiana Convict Fish or Bay Snapper (Archosargus Probatocephalus) -- this fish is actually a proud member of the Sea Bream family. Other family members you’ll find in the Gulf are Pink and Silver Bream and the Jolthead (Knobbed and Red Porgy). Sheepshead hail from the Mid-Atlantic down to South Texas and live in the bays and estuaries around rocky outcroppings, oyster reefs and any type of piling structure. Although they are not a true migratory species, Sheepshead do head for the deeper waters offshore during winter months and return as the water warms in the late winter and early spring months to congregate near shore (where it is believed that spawning takes place). It is during these months, right now (lucky us!), that Sheepshead are commercially available.

It is not hard to figure out how this fish got its moniker. Feeding on a diet of mainly crustaceans, bivalves and mollusks, they have a mean set of choppers: sharp incisors in the front and grinding molars in the back. I believe that their diet gives them their firm, wonderful flesh reminiscent of shellfish. The flesh is great for almost any hot application, standing up well to the grill and also to slow poaching.

Now, That's a Set of Choppers

As a fisherman, you have got to really want this fish. They are the epitome of frustration, especially when fishing in deeper waters. Their capable teeth will pick your pocket clean in a heartbeat. Only in the flats, when they are running those grass and sand pockets, can you get them to commit fully to your bait. Once in the box, the hard work has just begun - killer sharp spines, crazy tough scales and a rib cage like a Rubik’s cube bring new meaning to the words patience and virtue.

But rehabilitated, this ex-con will bring you a toothy smile once it hits the plate.