Dream you up.

I don't cook meat much - maybe eight or ten times a year at most. Fish, I cook even less often. But sometimes I go for it. Tonight I cooked up trout. Locally raised in an upstate hatchery, sold at the greenmarket, kept track of its entire lifespan from the egg to the smokehouse.

Smoked trout with fresh pasta, bitter greens, onions, and garlic. No extra spices, no herbs, just some salt and pepper - as Italian as I could make it. The trout came whole, gutted, with the skin intact. Determined to get my money's worth, I ripped the skin off and dug into what was left, even getting into the skull for the tiny bits of cheek meat. Then, to further myself as a bear, I swallowed the eyes down, and ate the skin. Slippery sweet savory trout skin, a treat I have maybe twice a year.