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William C. Altreuter
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Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Roanoke River herring sounds like the sort of thing I really ought to look into. "The big issue among river herring lovers is degree of doneness. Some ask for it sunnyside up, meaning minimal immersion in the fry kettle, resulting in a fish from which you can peel away the skin and lift moist pieces of meat off the bones. The opposite way to go is to ask for your herring cremated: fried until hard and crunchy and so well cooked that all the little bones have become indistinguishable from the flesh around them. The meat itself is transformed, its weight lightened so the natural oiliness is gone but the flavor has become even more intense. The crust and the interior are melded, and they break off in unbelievably savory bite-size pieces, finally leaving nothing but a herring backbone on the plate."

The corner of the Tarheel State where it is to be had is not near anyplace I am likely to find myself, and the Howard Dean sticker on my minivan is likely to draw stares from the gun rack crowd, so I need to devise a different strategy. Perhaps there is an upcoming art instalation in the vicinity, or a 10k road race.

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