From my column in Creative Loafing…

During freshman year of college, I lived off of Kraft mac ‘n cheese and Cocoa Puffs. Not because I couldn’t cook-but because Mother never let us have awful artificially flavored junk food in our household since it would “OH MY GOD, ROT OUR TEETH.” Never mind that our home had chipped lead paint, asbestos in the attic and that I’d wrestle with Brother on the lawn 10 seconds after Dad sprayed DDT.

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Above: Chinese Steamed Rockfish

When I go home to visit my Mom, I always ask for this dish, Chinese Steamed Fish. Mom lives in Los Angeles, where there is an Asian market on every street corner. Most have live fish tanks where you can choose which lucky fella gets to come home with you for a dinner date. Steaming is the purest and the most delicious way to cook fresh fish. We top it with soy sauce, cilantro, ginger, green onion slivers, and pour sizzling hot peanut oil all over the fish. You’ll taste the delicate, sweet flavor of the fish.

“Pick out your own fish to slaughter!?” you ask, squeamishly? Absolutely. My Asian friends know the routine. You arrive at the market early in the morning, when you are most alert and the fish are happy, having just eaten their breakfast. Stand in front of the fish tank.

But hold it.

Before you even start looking at the fish, you must do some simple, but essential calisthenic exercises to maximize your fish-picking-potential.

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