So, I found myself heading down to the Wilmington seafood market the other day. It wasn’t exactly a spur-of-the-moment thing, more like a mission I’d been putting off. You know how it is, you get busy, you grab whatever’s convenient from the supermarket, and you kind of forget what real, fresh food tastes like. Especially seafood. That stuff from the big stores? Hit or miss, mostly miss if I’m being honest.
What really got me going was a call from my nephew. Poor kid tried to make a fancy seafood dinner for his girlfriend. Bought some frozen fish, the kind that comes in a box looking all perfect. He told me it cooked up like rubber and tasted of, well, freezer. He was so deflated. It got me thinking, see, because I remember my old man, he used to say, “If you want something done right, sometimes you gotta go to the source.” And for good seafood, that ain’t the brightly lit aisle next to the cereals.
So, I got up early, grabbed my cooler, and made the drive. The Wilmington market, it’s not one of those fancy, yuppie places. It’s a bit rough around the edges, smells like the ocean, and that’s exactly how I like it. You walk in, and it’s just ice, everywhere, piled high with whatever the boats brought in. That’s the first good sign. No fancy displays, just good, honest fish.
I took my time, really looked around. You see all sorts, stuff you don’t find packaged neatly under plastic wrap. I saw these huge shrimp, seriously, they looked like they could wrestle a crab and win. And the flounder, eyes bright, gills red. That’s what you look for. It’s not about a brand name; it’s about freshness. I chatted with one of the guys behind the counter, an older fella, hands like leather. Asked him what was good, what just came in. He didn’t try to upsell me, just pointed to a beautiful pile of snapper and some scallops that looked like they were still shivering.
I ended up getting a couple of pounds of those big shrimp, and a nice, thick piece of that snapper he recommended. He weighed it out, wrapped it in paper, old school style. No fuss. Paid the man, and it wasn’t cheap, mind you. Good stuff rarely is. But I felt good about it, you know? Like I’d actually accomplished something more than just grocery shopping.
Got home, and the difference was immediate. Even just unwrapping it, the smell was clean, briny, not fishy in that bad way. I cooked it simple. The shrimp, just a quick sauté with garlic and a squeeze of lemon. The snapper, pan-seared, bit of salt, pepper. My wife, she took one bite and her eyes lit up. “Now THIS is fish,” she said. And she was right. It tasted like the sea. Tender, flavorful. Miles away from my nephew’s rubbery disaster.
It’s a bit of an effort, sure, going out of your way to a proper market. You gotta plan it, make the trip. But man, when you taste the difference, it makes you wonder why you ever settled for less. Some things, they’re just worth that extra step. And fresh seafood, truly fresh, that’s definitely one of them. Makes me think I ought to do it more often, stop being lazy about it. Life’s too short for bad fish, right?
