organized papers upon waking. made tea- apricot for me and smoky russian tea for josh reynolds, our guest from knoxville. more paper organizing. scrounging for comestibles while waiting for mom: cinnamonraisinbagel&orangehalves. josh cleaned out the car and filled up gas for our trip home while i organized some more papers.

rajeev and mom arrived hungry, so we hurried to a restaurant on main st. called fishmongers. we had sweet potato fries and batterfried pickled jalapenos. josh: pinto beans, sugarsnappeas, spinach. rajeev: oyster po’boy. mom: catfish basket. manju: triggerfish sandwich on such yummy seeded bread. the food was delicious, absurdly fresh, pure edible pleasure. the owner of the restaurant, gary bass, an older white man with an under-the-chin-beard came out to serve us our meal himself. we asked about which fish we were eating were locally caught and we were plunged into an incredible conversation about the relationship between race and eating patterns in the South, sustainability of fishing, the differences between texas and north carolina barbecue, and more.

we discussed the impacts of pollution, overfishing and global warming on ocean ecosystems. we bonded, talking about all the small businesses that have been in the area for the last 23 years (he has been there in brightleaf square for 25). we asked mr. bass why he doesn’t serve hushpuppies, and he talked about wanting to serve good food with substance. he bemoaned how the corporate/ chain seafood restaurant/ distribution network has destroyed people’s appreciation for carefully-prepared, local, sustainable cooking like his. i doubt that a fried triggerfish sandwich would ever make the cut for a nutritionist-approved “healthy diet”, and certainly an earlier, more vegan manju would have railed against the idea. but there’s more to that conversation…

after a couple months with the national fishworkers forum in thiruvananthapuram, kerala, working on the world fisherfolk forum back in 1998 (97? 99?), i discovered a newfound love for the craft of artisanal fishing. i decided i was vegetarian when i was twelve. for the first time since then, i had fish in the tiny fishing village of valiathura. like the fish from fishmongers in durham, these fish were caught by local fisherpeople. the fisherman filled a newspaper packet with their shimmering silver bodies, right out of his hefty catamaran. jerome achacha, a communist union organizer, showed me how to dig a pit in the sand and build a fire, clean the fish, and make a rich, spicy, malayalee fish curry. he was the one who taught me that if you wade your feet in the sea, she (kadalamma, the goddess of the waves) will seize your sorrows and wash them away. in an article by michael pollan that tonio shared with me (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/28/magazine/28nutritionism.t.html?ex=157680000&en=ec2685fd6c213846&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink), pollan discusses how the whole pleasurable experience of eating food the way your human ancestors showed you can ensure a healthier diet. mom and rajeev had read the article, too, and we talked about people’s rapidly changing, increasingly unhealthy relationship to food.

it’s complicated. it’s hard to come to grips with the suffering that i am directly causing (and ingesting) when i eat fish. what has happened to me, that my desire for comfort food trumps my compassion? and when there is so much unsustainable fishing in the world, any consumption of seafood contributes to the problem. still, eating fish resounds with me on a deep emotional/spiritual/cultural level, in a way hard to explain to people who aren’t from kerala. for my childhood, up to age twelve, i ate some variation on fish and rice (or cuppa, what people call yuca or cassava here) nearly daily. it tastes like home. malayalee fish curry, if it doesn’t make you sob for the fiery flavor, will make you weep for the intensity of emotion it evokes. it’s what mom makes and sits on the kitchen floor to eat with her hand right out of the big black pot.

gary bass and mom were nearly eating out of each other’s hands by the time we left. mom was smelling the foods and parsing out the ingredients so she could replicate the recipes at home. mr. bass fell over himself to bring us samples of his homemade mequite-smoked bluefish. it was delectable, and mom bought me a slab to eat back at highlander. mr. bass explained the bluefish migration patterns, and explained how he caught them off the carolina coast just when they were at their fattest. he had the kitchen send us fried calamari with curry sauce. on our way out, we saw a photograph of gary bass on the wall, dressed as a sailor type with a sailor pipe. josh’s quote was “if there is an example of a revolutionary fish restauranteur, gary bass is it.”

i spent the late afternoon finishing packing and organizing papers. roberto, josh, paulina, caitlin, jules, and i met up with coya and brandon at blue corn cafe: southern queers in a lesbian-run establishment. is there no limit to wonderful dishes you can make with plantains (or delicious sauces you can dip them in?). we talked about making real plans for long-term revolutionary co-parenting in durham and other amazing things. seeing coya after months was such a blessing. i still have some healing to do after the fairness for all families campaign experience, and only the handful of folks who were at the heart of it can understand why.

we drove to tennessee afterwards. good music, no traffic, arrived at 3.30am and crashed until the education team meeting this morning (yes, i showed in my pajamas, and clutching my mug of banana-lychee tea).