Fish

Fish have always been mystical, have had a special place at the table. However familiar a battered cod may seem, a fresh cod on a slab, slimy and cold, mouth gaping, is as different from us and our atmosphere and our world as it is possible to be.

Two-thirds of the world is water, three-quarters of us is water, but fish are utterly, truly alien. We have a reverence and a repugnance of things that drown in our atmosphere. The measure of human inquisitiveness and bravery is measured against the first man who ever ate an oyster. Fish are sinister. Deep-sea fishing is more closely related to space travel than it is to terrestrial hunting or farming. Alone in a fatal environment, fishermen navigate by the stars and their catch is always a mysterious act of faith. Indeed fishing over the other side of the boat was one of the first Christian acts of faith. You drop a net and out of the deep comes these aliens. In the case of turbot, literally flat fish are born round fish, and slowly one eye grows over to join the other, sometimes it’s the left, sometimes the right. Turbot are sinister. Plaice are dextrous without having the benefit of hands. The salmon was the ancient Celtic symbol of wisdom. The fish was the first symbol of Christ.