Corvino

It sounded Italian, looked good, and was sold by a handsome young fishmonger at the best supermarket in the area. Why would I even consider resisting?

I must say that I totally impressed myself tonight. I sauteed sliced leeks in butter until soft, added some pinot grigio wine and enjoyed the vapors, wondering what else would make the dish good. Capers? Not in the mood. Parsley? Check. How about a sliced tomato? Sure! Added some salt and the corvino fish and poached to perfection. Cost per serving? Maybe $5.50. The pleasure I felt eating it? Priceless. I did, however, regret *not* thinking to add some of the Moroccan saffron Eric and Rich got me. Next time!

Turns out corvino is not at all Italian, and, according to cursory internet research, may in fact be the corbina/corvina. Wikipedia says not to confuse corvino with California corbina, but the Dictionary Reference.com says it’s one and the same fish. Who’s a gal to trust? What’s written by the public or what’s written by the ‘experts’? Does it even matter? I doubt it; now that I’ve discovered that I actually *like* this fish, I’ll likely not find it again for a while.

Ha! That last phrase rings true also for my social life. Friends I enjoy disappear, sometimes for long stretches of time. Sometimes I’m the one who disappears. I sure wish one of my disappearing friends were here with me and my corvino masterpiece tonight. Must. Fight. Loneliness.