Maki looked up at me with her dark brown eyes. I know this look well. It’s the one telling me she desperately wants a nibble, a lick… anything. She came over to me as soon as I’d taken the mackerel out of their paper. “No. It’s not for you.” I told her sternly.
Blank stare. Licks lips.
“No. Now, go away.”
Cocked head. Blink, blink. Licks lips.
As I stuffed the mackerel with fresh herbs and lemon, my pal sat patiently beside me. Shortly after I placed them in the oven, the whole house began to fill with a soothing aroma that only roasted dishes can provide. It’s the comfort one feels when they smell wood burning from a fireplace on a crisp winter night. It was all I could do from sticking my head in there.
The wait was worth it. By the end, the fish was sizzling. I let it cool for a minute and then carefully pulled back the skin to reveal the meat. I went in with my fingers, not caring if I burned them. The first bite reminded me that fish prepared simply is often the best; that uncomplicated meals can be the most flavorful. A small, but important, revelation.