Such advice is mostly nonsense in my experience, though my wife has a more delicate constitution and ate a bit of fresh cod from the fishmonger rather than join me in the salmon.
A bit of black cod on a bed of fresh peas with almond, white chocolate and a blanket of uncooked pea tendrils is nice for about four bites; thick-cut duck breast with blackened carrots and honey is charming for maybe six.
Still retaining a bit of moisture, grilled cod and salmon escaped the flames in time, but on two tries the halibut was desiccated.
Even the dullest stores in my neighborhood (an hour and a half from the city, up the Hudson) now have special fresh-fish sections, where only a few months ago they offered nothing but frozen fillets and the occasional bit of cod.
Isn't the real dead, just like painting, and shouldn't I be taking the Chapmans' portrait as a bit of post-postmodern irony, as cod-portraiture for an age when everyone knows there's no soul to capture, no essence to be committed by hand and eye and the bum- end of a great tradition, to canvas?
Given the ever-present possibility of respondent or coder error, it takes a bit of hubris to draw strong conclusions about the behavior of non-citizens from such small numbers.
I remember once portioning a piece of cod and there was this triangle here and a jagged bit there.
He says that although it is a reliable source of fish-related data, the idea that cod in the North Sea live to 25 is a bit of a red herring.
Both the cod and the sauce can be prepared well ahead of time, leaving you with just a bit of cooking at the last minute.
