Mackerel

If I were told that I could only eat one fish for the rest of my life, well then mackerel, with its permanent smirk, would win hands down. Spitting under the grill, pronged from vinegar, splashed with soy, I crave that rich, oily, mineral taste. They must be fresh, though; at their peak, stiff when held by the head. After that iridescent green fades to grey, they are not half the fish that lay quivering in the bucket or stared beadily from the crushed ice display. Buy mackerel when it’s fresh and leave it when not.