On the Evisceration and Subsequent Consumption of Cephalopods

So one day in the supermarket they had whole squid for sale, super cheap. And I had a hankering for some pasta con calamari.

So I took them home. They were so cute! How could I possibly resist?

I named the one on the left 'Lunch,' and the one on the right 'Tomorrow's Lunch.'

When I started washing one, some goop started coming out. I figured there would only be a little goop, so I kept trying to rinse it out. Several minutes of goopy futility later, it occurred to me that there was probably stuff inside my future calamari rings.

Even though I'm reasonably familiar with the processes of removing the inside bits of fish and chicken, it took a while to realize that squid is not all calamari rings and waggling tentacles. But what was in there? And how would I get it out?

Fortunately for the advancement of human knowledge, we have the Internet. So I thought I'd share with you - quite graphically - what I've learned.

What you do is this: you grasp the head, and you grasp the body. Then, gently but firmly, you twist and pull.

Got that? Twist and pull.

Which leaves you with your future calamari rings...

...and everything else.

In an ideal world, the connection between the viscera and the head is stronger than the connection between bits and body. This actually worked just fine for the first one, despite the fact that I had caused the goopy thing (liver equivalent?) to spring a leak in trying to wash out the squid. But for the second one, I had to tease it out, working my fingers in and gently separating it from the body. I probably could have just torn it out, since I wasn't planning on using that bit, but it would have been a good deal messier.

Next comes the removal of the head and beak, by hacking, and then by prodding and tugging, respectively.

Then slicing, then flash frying, then yum!

But all this reminded me of Ikacenter, a fantastic restaurant in Shinjuku that I went to last year.

It's a seafood restaurant, with a particular emphasis on squid. 'Ika' means squid, so that came as no surprise.

When you walk in, there are squids in huge tanks that run for about half the length of the restaurant. They jet around placidly, vividly reminding me of the Bloopers in Super Mario. Now, I don't think you can pick which one you want, but at any rate they scoop one out for you and hack off the tentacles, serving them still wriggling in a small bowl. Grab it (some skill with chopsticks is necessary) and dip it in ponzu sauce with grated ginger. Wriggleicious!
Despite my initial surprise, vigorous chewing subdued the thrashing in my mouth.

This is generally a good time to remember that your momma told you to chew 30 times first before swallowing.

Then they served a sashimi course, laid out in the artfully arranged corpse of a red snapper. This included a couple of types of fish I had never eaten sashimi of before, and it was delicious.

Alas, the only photographic evidence is of the sashimi course.

Next came the body of the squid, laid out flat and sliced finely. The dipping sauce was the goop-generator from inside the squid, which we ground into a paste. Again, totally freaky - but yum! I don't even know what to call it. Pâté de foie squid? Pâté de squid gras? French mystifies me.

Now, I figured that was it for Blooper-San. What more could he possibly have to give?

So we moved on to the next course, which was a fish called enzara. This is a fairly uncommon fish - I've only had it the once. It was simmered in a sweet, dark sauce, and, like everything else, obscenely delicious. And I mean it when I say obscene, because this is a fish that looked like it would have been totally at home bursting out of someone's stomach in a froth of blood and guts in Alien. Bulbous, pupil-less yellow eyes and dagger-like teeth make for a critter you don't really want to meet in an dark underwater cave. The pictures I've found of it on the internet don't really do justice to the horror.

Then, unexpectedly, came the squid's coup de grâce.

The head had been cut into four pieces and grilled (or maybe baked, I don't recall). Lightly salted, crunchy. Yum.

And that, finally, was that, for Mister Squid and dinner.

I didn't do anything exotic with mine - the parts that usually get thrown out were thrown out. I don't know if I would even try it if I bought them still-blooping from the fish market. But the unexotic, standard, flash-fried calamari still was pretty darn tasty.

The above + cheddar cheese = comfort food.

Still, you should try Ikacenter sometime. I'd be happy to go again.