It was the first fish I remember wanting to draw accurately, because it looked like a jet fighter. Later, when I was 11, I helped to reel in a cousin of the bluefin, a 68 pound yellowfin on a family trip to Cabo. We saw a large pod of dolphins, several hundred at least, and tossed a strange looking baitfish that I had never seen to sink down to the waiting fish, and right away hooked up and set the reel screaming. The shimmering silver flashes below the water, struggling greatly against rod and reel, was mysterious and alluring. Finally the tuna tired, was brought to the side of the boat, gaffed and landed aft of the transom. A shark followed the tuna to the boat, and we tried to catch it too by offering it a piece of sashimi, but it swam away. Later that night, we enjoyed tuna as ceviche, grilled and cooked in a rich, garlicky soup along with the mahi that my dad had landed.
Years later, off of Newport aboard the Six Pack, we spotted a boil and flylined sardines into the mix. The yellowtails bit pretty readily, but the accompanying bluefin would not touch our Owner hooks at all, save one individual who would not be finessed in by our 30 pound test. I ended that trip with a 20 pound yellowtail, and a new respect for bluefin.
In Japan, I visited the eastern-most village on the island of Honshu, and visited a fish market where they sold all sorts of seafood, from whale to mantis shrimp. I enjoyed some of the freshest tuna, ruby red chunks atop a bowl of steaming rice, with a sweet and salty sauce, shredded nori and a raw egg. It was one of the best things I'd ever tasted.
My brother told me of a tiny, hard to find restaurant he had found who specialized in serving the giant heads of bluefin tuna. The old proprietor grilled the head over a charcoal brazier for hours, resulting in a feast of sweet flesh seldom touched or ever discovered by American or European diners.
Though I am quite sad that I no longer eat tuna on a regular basis, due to their heavily depleted status, I am hopeful that the large greedy commercial fishermen who raise them in net pens will read "The Goose That Laid The Golden Egg" and make the connection: It is stupid to overutilize a resource past what can sustainably taken for short term gain. Though astronomical sums are being paid for tuna because of their scarcity, tuna fishermen will be screwed and have only stories of large paychecks in place of a steady living. Here's one such story:
Which sucks for small operations, like the fishermen ippon zuri operators out of Aomori:
The Mattanza, a fishing practice little changed since Roman times, has pretty much ended already because of the decline of the bluefin(link to slideshow). It's sad to think that this fish may go extinct in the not-too-distant future. Sometimes, it's bad to love something as much as we love to eat tuna...
