The Cod

Gentle folks,

What you are about to see may shock you. But don't worry. This is merely the digitized fossil of an ancient beast, long ago destroyed...

This is a Cod head.

This is that same Cod head, as seen from the side.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Where can I get one of those for my next pot luck! And I agree, the cod head is a tasty, tasty dish. Sure, its gelatinous cousin (see above) lacks for visual appeal, but only in such a frozen state can one pick and choose the most delectable tidbits for nibbling and such.

Okay that's not true. A fish need not be jellified and molten for one to enjoy it. Nor was this one savored as it appears. This is the aftermath, the happy accident of a forgotten creature left in its ceramic sea for too long. A good friend gave me the fish to serve at a gathering. He taught me the fish's facial geography, so that I could share these secrets (or pluck the fleshy cheek for my own selfish consumption). In a way, the pot o' cod was a hit. Nearly everyone who lifted and peeked under the lid reacted in a way that conferred one of two emotions: utter disgust, or immense satisfaction. I'm an optimist. They thought it too beautiful to ingest. This is why I took home the entire head, minorly pecked at, and why, after a night in the icebox, the above abomination formed as if rising out of the primoridal, Fridgidaire ooze.

Stare at the top-down view of the Cod head long enough and you can see yourself in it. There's a lesson in that, somewhere...

An aside -- The same chef friend who gave me this to serve to people also served me, at his own restaurant, fried Cod sperm. He said it was an experiment; he didn't tell me what it was until after I devoured them. They tasted sort of like freshly made tator tots, with a kick of salt water.

This is what I'm trying to say: Be careful who you befriend in Portland, Maine.