Travel is an activity in which many of us revel, no matter the destination. But after I have been away for a while, returning to Alaska feels more like an immersion. Like a layering experience for the soul. Or a cosmic dip into a universal truth. A close encounter with the mother of vastness. A slow dance with the sky. A love affair with flowers. A bending of time. I experience this majestic place like a constellation of awesomeness whose points come together to weave life into every day and everything, like a beam of life force infinitely drawing itself into land and sea.
But let's start with the obvious — food. Seafood, to be exact. There have been countless instances, when I’m not in Alaska and confronted with seafood options on menus. Of course, I love seafood, but what I don’t love is not knowing what “white fish” means when I come across the vagueness of that term as a taco descriptor; or worse, a plate of farmed fish when I order the salmon special. So, one of my absolute most favorite things about being in Alaska is the reliability of its seafood, from harvest method to pleasure measure. The etched-in knowing that no matter which variety of maritime meal I encounter, it will taste sublime and equally delight every single one of my senses. This is because the wild seafood of Alaska is a resource that quickly — in the hands of savvy captains, cooks and chefs alike — morphs into a gift for the palate.
When I eat in Alaska, I'm keenly aware that I'm not only partaking of some of the most exquisite seafood on the planet, but also a harvest crafted by those who care for it and its longevity as a matter of principle, legacy and culture. It’s a bounty of seafood that’s been harvested with the utmost respect to it and the seas from which it came — and in this way, seafood in Alaska is a love language, a currency of connectivity and a testament to the reverence that underscores how deeply Alaskans love and honor their special, sacred home.
We've been on the Atlantic Coast with family for much of spring, and finally, at the peak of summer, we've found our way back to Alaska. So, I suppose this letter, in the throes of our re-immersion, is my testament to the culinary odyssey that I'm lucky to experience every time I come back to Homer, Alaska. An experience that redefines my standards for how seafood should taste, and also inspires me to prepare my own Alaskan seafood wherever I am against this delicious, experiential barometer of sheer, unadulterated greatness.
For the next few weeks I will be penning similar such testaments to some of the other reasons why I keep falling in love with Alaska, so stay tuned!
Live Wild,
Monica
Pictured above: (clockwise from the upper right corner) A Kodiak scallop dinner as glorious in flavor as it was in color scheme, served with a sweet corn puree, beluga lentils, roasted parsnips, parsnip chips, snap peas, pickled onions and pea shoots — and devoured with glee at a lovely spot on the Homer Spit; a pair of blackened yelloweye rockfish tacos enjoyed at a cafe inside the boatyard where the vessels of Arron's dad and granddad are both kept; another pair of tacos, this time sockeye, gobbled up in a brewery in Anchorage; a gorgeously plump sockeye filet atop a pile of perfectly seasoned succotash, also in Anchorage.
