Baiting the Hook

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By VICTORIA THOMAS

I’m a Valley girl, by choice, not birth. Not coincidentally, many things I like about Burbank, when compared to the Hipster Fatigue of Santa Monica, do parallel my Brooklyn upbringing, and how it sharply delineated me and my fellow bridge-and-tunnel girls from the Manhattanites.

But one thing Brooklyn had was fish and fish-eaters. My father worked at the historic Fulton Fish Market, hauling pollock, grouper, flounder, octopus and live crabs out over the ice before dawn, back when the market was located near the Brooklyn Bridge at the East River waterfront. Many Brooklynites were old-school Italians and Italian-Americans who still ate fish on Fridays. Although, I must say, a steaming bowl of handmade linguini alla vongole, brimming with plump, briney clams, never seemed a form of penance. I looked forward to Lent.

Since then, Brooklyn’s become a surprisingly fashionable residence, while Burbank has not. Part of the reason is that Burbank has no fish.

There is a scary, low-ceilinged oyster house close to my ZIP code where one can perch on a stool and have an OK sea-sourced meal. But the freshness of the bivalves is more than overpowered by the stink of Lysol from the loo; the drunken cackling, squawking and brawling (primarily from the wait staff); and the reek of cigarette smoke, bitterness and despair from the overall establishment. If I were casting a Coen brothers movie, this place would be a gold mine.

I’d be happy if I could just purchase the fish there, take it home and cook it myself in a more pleasing environment. But in addition to the dearth of seafood restaurants in my part of the Valley, there isn’t a fresh fish market, either. The supers, Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods, offer defrosted Thai prawns; fake pressed-and-formed “krab” legs; and slimy slabs of farmed salmon, dyed Caltrans orange. There is often a whiff of something like ammonia from this deadliest catch. A few times, I’ve set down scraps that literally made my two cats high-tail it out of the kitchen.

Judging from the sad, frozen, battered filets and gruesome surf-and-turf combos at joints that have no interest or expertise in fish, Burbank might as well be a thousand miles from the nearest ocean. I know that my town is not close to the water, but I’m not asking the fish to swim over here.

And let’s talk about the raw stuff – the Geisha Lips, the Sexy Roll, the spicy OMG Roll (well, I do live in the Valley), all from Teru Sushi in Studio City. Back in the day, when my dad was slicing a piece of tuna so close to the bone that all that was left behind were a few wisps of purple flesh, he would say, “You could eat this fish raw.” That was a very different time and place, so we never did, but he was right.


Raw deal

Sushi is wonderful. And there are few good sushi restaurants in Burbank, either. Which brings me to my recurring question: Where are the flippin’ fish? Burbank is home to NBC. The Warner Bros. studios are minutes away. Disney holdings dominate the suburban landscape as I drive, drive, drive toward the Verdugos at dusk in search of piscine purity in some form.

My point is that Burbank has a thriving revenue base. Burbank is the work destination of thousands of high earners. This includes smart people with interesting jobs. Industry people with discretionary income. Real housewives and aspiring whatevers with Kardashian-perfect hair extensions, implants of all flavors and acrylic French manicures, piloting their glossy new rides along the 134. These people would eat sushi. They’d eat soft-shell crabs. They’d go for split grilled sardines and broiled yellowtail collar. They’d snarf up calamari.

I was recently heartened by reading the Business Journal cover story in the Aug. 6 issue headlined “Diving In,” which featured oyster-and mussel-guy Phil Cruver, owner of KZO Sea Farms, and his plan to bring more mollusks to Los Angeles. He could not be more correct than when he quotes Peter Drucker, who said, “Aquaculture, not the Internet, represents the most promising investment opportunity of the 21st century.”

So maybe there’s a glimmer of hope. One of the few people who knows about seafood in Los Angeles is Michael Cigliano, whose family founded and still owns and operates Santa Monica Seafood, the best fresh-fish counter (with small dining area) for hundreds of miles in any direction.

“Fish is a costly venture,” he says. “The fish itself is fragile. It’s expensive, and it requires expensive refrigeration and careful handling. A lot of people don’t see this as the best return on investment. You have to be passionate and committed to quality. You cannot deviate, and you have to look beyond immediate gratification and beyond price. That hasn’t happened in the Valley.”

Well, now’s the time. Burbank business leaders, investors, financiers, I’m putting you on notice. I’m tying on my lobster bib, and I’ve got my lemon wedges and crab picks within easy reach. It’s time to put Burbank on the map for something other than vintage Carson monologues. And I’m starved.

Victoria Thomas is a freelance writer who lives in Burbank and loves to eat fish.

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