Only once have I eaten halibut – and it was gorgeous – and only once have I handled uncooked halibut – a couple of hours before eating it.
Why on earth would I handle halibut when I wasn’t the cook?
The cook, my cousin, was presented with a whole halibut - quid pro quo – but we were left with the conundrum: how to get individual steaks from this monster.
Towards the top left corner you may just be able to see some of the implements used: a cleaver and various knives-cum-saws. I had the unskilled job of holding this dead fish while my cousin attacked it.
The cleaver didn’t last long: it’s potential as a defingerer was far too great. No way was I going within about a foot or so of the monster when that bloody cleaver was crashing down.
I couldn’t hold the fish with my bare hands – far too slippy. A dishtowel was called for. We had a hell of a job but eventually we found one knife to cut the flesh and a very sharp knife to cut bone.
Looking at the finished steaks you’d never know the hassle we had but if you saw the mess of blood, gore, guts and bone etc on the table and floor you’d think a murder had been committed.
Was it worth the effort?