Salmon with Aunt Mae's Miso Sauce

"The sun had risen, the sky was clear.  I crouched among the rocks, perched like a seagull on a ledge, and contemplated the sea.  My body felt powerful, fresh and obedient. And my mind, following the waves, became itself a wave, unresisting, submissive to the rhythm of the sea." from Zorba the Greek







The old man continued that there were as many ways to fish as their were fish in the sea and the estero.  "There is the line I lay off the peak of the great cliffs here at the very head of estero where the ocean moves through the tidal flats; there is the line I lay off the shore, the dock or even my row.  But there is only one pure form of fishing, the way that all ancient fisherman know, fishing with the fish themselves." He picked up his cedar plank platter and for the first time in half an hour they could see what it was the great cook had been preparing.  The small cabin of the bar smelled of the insides of the ocean itself.  "Every fish should have its own story.  I fish alone and I fish for only one at a time,"

he continued. "You may not believe that this fine fellow cost me five hours and nearly my life."  He set down onto the bar nothing more than a cut piece of cardboard and lay down the quadrants of the pink fish over the top then squeezed the rest of the remaining half of the lemon over the skin.  The men quickly set down their brown bottles and picked up the fish by hand bit it like a piece of cake. Yesterday morning I reached the Point Reyes coastal rocks at low tide.  It was a fine day for the running of the line of silver and I could see their backs shining into the estero.  I back oared around the sea side of rocks where an eddy had formed in between what looked like the mouth of an opening to a small cave at low tide.  As soon as my shrimp on the hook landed on the water a pair of large wrench like jaws took the shrimp down low and I could tell she gulped it but instead of moving along with the line of the pack, she headed back out to see temporarily, the zagged back into shore, twirling my line around one of the point of the massive cliff rocks.  I had no time to spare.  This was 40 pounds, all muscle, and had a head for freshwater." The old man grinned and tipped his hat while the two others sat there enjoying their cheeks filled with the very fish for which the story was being told. "I tossed anchor for the row and jumped up onto that rock letting the line stay taut by the tension around it, then leaped into the bay, keeping my pole up above the surface as best as I could, while reeling to capture

tension again.  As I caught back up with her weight she was pulling me through to the shallows – I just kept reeling and breathing.  The terns and gulls began to circle me as if a seal.  There was no more than two hundred yards to shore and I rode her into the mouth of the estuary and could feel the warmth of the fresh water soaking." The two men, I could see, actually began to listen and visualize the extravaganza of the image that was being painted before their eyes.  'This old man,' I could just about imagine them saying to themselves, 'very likely story.' Yet they too knew of the great journey up the coast to whale cove, the true landing point of the great Sir Frances Drake in 1579, and his will to live upon the ocean as if it were a giving being. "Two fallen cypress had created a temporary bridge across the narrow neck of the estero.  There is where the great Chinook had run out of cunning options.  My line was strong, I could now touch the bottom of the sandy shore. I was already most certainly wet and

so I ran to her and dove onto her, her body half exposed now in the shallows.  From a distance, I suppose, some poor birdwatcher could only see an old man viciously dive and wrap his arms onto something that wasn't there, but she was. I picked her up, gave her one last hug in my arms and took her onto the beach with me for a short rest."  The old man grinned again, then stole a good swallow from one of the men's beers.  "And what about the boat?" the other man alarmed in question.  The old man's eyes squeezed and his temples bulged.  He set down his fish and meandered out to the side door overlooking the bay with his binoculars.  "Well, right where I left her of course. Now, did I ever tell you about Aunt Mae's miso sauce?"