I was semi-proud of myself last night for not flubbing up someone else’s freshly caught yellow fin tuna. I was at a dinner party and their neighbor had just dropped off a slab of tuna he had reeled in hours prior. It was a gorgeous blood-pink and terrific without any kind of fuss at all, including cooking. All it needed was some soy and wasabi, but the hostess also wanted to cook some, which I fully supported until she wondered if she should just pour cajun spice all over it. She held up a jar that read, “Cajun Spice.”
I winced. I said, “Ooh. Yum,” or something.
“What do you think?” she said, and because she asked I said, “Well, since it’s fresh it might be okay with something that doesn’t hide the flavor so much.” I was on my second glass of wine, but am pretty sure I sounded diplomatic. Then she got sort of frantic and distracted and the poor fish was going to remain sauce-less. Even salt-less. Then my sister-in-law said, “Why don’t you just put something together.”
Damn and I thought I was off the hook with my vegetable chips and homemade salsa (crushed tomatoes, chipotle, mango from mom’s tree, refried beans, Havarti cheese. It was good, I swear).
So I scoured the kitchen for props to help with my improv.
I was thinking about marinating and then drizzling an aioli-kind of sauce on it afterward. Time was not on my side.
I also had to make it kid-friendly (See Bi-foodie and Eat It posts for more thoughts on ‘kid-friendly’). So here’s what I came up with. Again, I was drinking wine and can’t recall amounts:
Sesame oil, olive oil, sesame seeds, Thai basil, wasabi, garlic, mayonnaise, salt, soy sauce, a little brown sugar. I let it sit in this for a bit, saving half to pour over after it was seared. I have to say, I’m no Iron Chef, but it kind of ruled. Everyone said so. They said, “This kind of rules.” No, not really, but that’s what I wanted to think they were thinking.