Catch and...EAT

I'd just read yesterday that bluefish had yet to make an appearance along Cape Ann. With striper fishing entering the summer doldrums, it had begun to look like I'd be buying most of our fresh fish for a while.

Nonetheless, today was too good a day not to drag a bait or two around Salem Sound. I took Kilty's Wake out fast to Children's Island off Marblehead Neck. I decided to use one of the new Rapala swimming lures I'd gotten for my birthday, silver with the guaranteed "wounded baitfish" action.

The first five minutes of trolling is the most intense; you expect a hit at any moment. Gradually, you become less focused on the fishing and more on the scenery, the other boats, and the weather. I'd passed Marblehead Harbor, Marblehead Old Town, and half of Salem Harbor and was approaching a rocky obstructed area known as Great Aquavitae. I decided to skirt the obstruction so the lure would seem to be flushed from the crevices in the rocks.

I'd just settled back into a daze when my Penn Slammer bent down and the reel began to scream. As I grabbed the rod, the fish began to circle wildly to the left, still stripping line. I knew it wasn't a bass; stripers tend to dig in with their powerful tails and look for underwater structure to break off the line.

Bluefish, I thought. Big chopper.

And then I thought, No wire leader. Bluefish have formidable teeth, capable of snipping monofilament like a line cutter.

I got the rod tip up and the fish came to the top. He broke the surface and tail-walked across it, removing any doubt as to his species. I was trying to manage the rod, the reel, and the net--I was one hand short. When the fish saw the boat, he made another run, but finally succumbed. I lifted him onto the cover of the bait well, which is 30" wide, and he extended past it in both directions.

Bluefish is delicious if the fish is cleaned quickly, but can be too strong if the oils are allowed to seep into the meat. I wasn't equipped to fillet the fish on the boat (I'd been striper fishing, and it's illegal to fillet stripers out on the water), so I headed back to the Marina, tied up the boat, grabbed the fish by the tail, and headed across the street to Rowand's Fish Market. It was quite a spectacle: A man carrying a fish as long as his leg standing at a crosswalk on Route 1A at the foot of the Beverly-Salem Bridge. I've never gotten so many waves and honks.

Rowand's fishcutter graciously filleted the bluefish. I took only what we could eat at home and left the rest for Rowand's employees to split up. I'm planning to coat our piece with Dijon mustard, mayonnaise, and coarse black pepper and put it on the grill.