Mark Bittman once called mackerel the Rodney Dangerfield of fish—it gets no respect. I stand guilty; my true love of mackerel and other oily fish began only after trying some pickled mackerel (saba) nigiri at Maneki a few years back.
I remember being surprised at how much I enjoyed the nigiri, how much the acidity of vinegar balanced out the strong, sweet meatiness of the mackerel. I stared down at what was left of the silvery morsel on my plate as if seeing it for the first time. Why hadn’t I noticed you before, angel? Were you hiding under another fucking California roll?
I didn’t realize that fish could do more. A youth of Mrs. Paul’s frozen breaded cod fillets does not exactly challenge the palate, and even the tougher meat of the catfish I enjoyed as a kid in southeast Texas was still comparatively mild and buried under breading. Because I was accustomed to and expected fish to taste this way, it took me longer to accept the more flavorful oily fish like mackerel, sardines, and herring—fish that some decry as tasting too “fishy.” But here’s what I’ve never understood: Does “fishy” mean it tastes like it’s rancid or that it just tastes too much like fish? And if it’s the latter, what’s wrong with that?