Seafood on the Pier part II

Pacific Fish Center and Restaurant

131 Fishermans Wharf

Redondo Beach, CA 90277

(310) 374-8420

Cruel death, part II.

It was raining, it was cold, it was windy and I was wearing a skirt.  My uncle, big eater and consummate racist that he is, recommended this place.  It fulfilled our criteria: large amounts of seafood served tabletop, and his: it's Korean.  

First came our live shrimp, a complete mistake as my dad, who insisted on having them, thought they were live when they were cooked.  Not live when the were skinned and brought to the table.  We initially tried to cancel the order and were a little put off when the woman said the order was already in, but it made sense when, still writhing, our shrimp arrived a moment later.  Again, I thought they would die quickly, as you, or I, or a chicken would die pretty quickly after being skinned, or "depantsed," and severed torso from legs.  But not shrimp.  Shrimp are perfectly happy to lay on a plastic platter, all facing the same direction, and have their bodies cut off with plastic utensils.  They did not attempt to bite the hands that gripped their sides and pulled their tails; instead, they fought each other.  Seriously.  Two turned on each other and started chomping until Julia picked one up and moved it down the row towards its more docile compatriots.  It was a little inspiring.

And not entirely worth it.  Though the shrimp tails were tender, fresh and sweet, they really just tasted like mild shrimp and weren't worth the, you know, eternal damnation.  On the other hand, the shrimp heads were worthy, carted off still wriggling, and returned ten minutes later deep fried.  This was inspiration.  The remaining legs and tentacles were as crispy as potato chips, tender, slightly fishy and a little salty.  They looked capable of cutting our mouths, but instead buckled easily in our unrelenting mouths.  The meat inside was barely fishy and so sweet and delectable that I licked little bits of shrimp guts from the inside of the shell.  My sister ate the eyes and face, I left mine on the paper plate.  Unbelievable.

The cooked shrimp went unfinished, a significant event in my family.  They were tough, overcooked, and though they had a nice aroma, didn't taste great.

The dungeness crabs were well cooked, full of the clean orange goo that I love, though the protein in the carriage was really thick and tough.  The meat was tender and fresh, and though it was delicious, it wasn't worth the premium over making our own at home.  At $16/lb, as opposed to about $6/lb at the grocers, I'll stay home.  

The finale was Mae Won Tong, a spicy seafood soup with daikon radish, tofu, fish collar, zucchini and shrimp.  We had to order it mild because my father can't handle heat anymore and it came disappointingly beige after watching pot after pot of bright red soup pass.  Despite lacking the main flavor, the stock was rich, flavorful and clean.  The fish and shrimp were unspectacular, but the broth alone made for a great finish.  Well, except for the little bit of kimchi and rice I had, you know, just to settle my stomach.

Seafood on the Pier

I think I'm going to hell.  I ate part of an animal while it was still alive.  Two, actually.

The first was a sea urchin, a faceless, echinodermatic training ground for animal two.  Don't worry, it wasn't a monkey (never eat primate, or you'll get spongiform encephalopathy, aka Mad Cow).  It was a shrimp.  An ugly, dumb crustacean closer, as Alton Brown often insists, to a cockroach than to us.  In a way, though part of it was alive, the part I was eating was thoroughly, thoroughly dead.  And yet, I turned in shame from its glossy eyes, its fighting maw, and the premature end to its armored head as I bit into its severed tail.

Quality Seafood

QualitySeafood.net

130 Internatl Boardwalk

Redondo Beach, CA 90277

(310) 374-2383

Quality Seafood is barely visible from the parking lot, an unimpressive lettering job at the end of a long boardwalk of tchotchke shops and bars.  As we got closer, as we saw the men in waterproof overalls and the rows of water tanks, I knew we had followed our bad Google directions to the right place.  First are the rows of crab and lobster, not just dungeness but spiny and spider.  Next are the oysters, maybe 18 types, largely local, and the rows of steamers, clams and mussels.  There's the bar for the beer and butter (all but the most minimalist sauces are 50cents-$1), then the area for platters: display cases of fried food and crates of ice and the newly dead.  A friendly counterperson helped us choose a whole tilapia for $10, cleaned, mostly, fried up and served with three sides.  We went back to the live stuff and from a less friendly but no less helpful counterperson, got 12 oysters, a pound of savory clams and green mussels pressure-cooker steamed in wine sauce, and, of course, a whole live sea urchin.

The first sea urchin he dropped, sparing its life and saving it for a later day's suffering.  Ours was a sprightly fellow, all healthy, long, roving spines.  He bashed in its oral surface with a serving spoon, pulled out long dark purple insides with his bare fingers, rinsed it quickly with water and plopped it on a styrofoam plate.  I really didn't expect it to still be moving.  But it was.  And after my sister carried it to our table, I really thought it would stop when she removed its first orange ovary.  Not yet.  I decided I'd wait until it died.  Out of respect.  But after five minutes I couldn't stand its suffering, and begged my sister to put it out of its misery.  She removed the rest of its ovaries and pushed around its insides a bit.  She's going to be a doctor.  And it kept moving.  So, allowing my morals to become secondary to hunger, I took a bite.  The sea urchin was sweet and creamy, only salty because of the milky fluid sloshing around in the funk.  It was a completely separate thing from uni sushi, which often tastes like river water and is slightly tougher and more orange than this delicate tongue of flesh.  It was delicious.

The tilapia was crispy and lightly salted, though the remaining deep fried scales curled into creepy spikes around the tail and fins.  The oysters were cleanly shucked, though not a gourmet experience served on a styrofoam tray with packets of Tapatio and lemons.  The only disappointment was the steamer plate.  Though the savory clams were surprisingly different, flavorful and tender, the sauce was not especially flavorful, and pulling the beards from the green mussels was unpleasant.  One bonus was the miniscule crab I found inside one of the clams, each orange appendage jutting up through the clam's membrane.  Creepy.