In Wellfleet- I'm enjoying the sun, the ocean waves, the salty sea air, the quiet of the upper Cape-and, I almost forgot, the thrilling, spine-tingling, dizzying euphoric high generated in my flesh and bones- and even in my marrow- when I walk through the screen door of Hatch's Fish Market. For here, in Cape Cod, I can buy fish and shellfish that, by the grace of God, I can turn into sashimi. In fact, RIGHT NOW, the scallop that I'm working on is moving- just barely, so that when you look at the surface of the piece I sliced, you see the light it reflects shimmer a little. How can this be? Where am I? Japan? Is this a flashback?

I ask Hatch, "How come the fish is so fresh and the shellfish so alive?" Says Hatch, "That's how we buy it." "Well, why?" "Just because!" This seems like a good time to end my chat with Hatch.

Let me give you a quick tour of Hatch's. As you enter, your eyes really should be focusing at the far end of the fish case, looking for toro (the fatty belly part of the tuna). You can buy a slab, keep it wrapped in paper, which you then wrap in plastic, and you will have the luxury of being able to have a slice of toro, day or night, whenever you have the craving.

Beside toro, you will find bluefish (delicious raw when fresh), flounder (whose fin is sweet and crunchy and whose fillet should be sliced as thinly as you can), halibut, cod, swordfish (whose fatty portion, which fish markets usually throw out, is ambrosial), regular tuna, striped bass, clams, scallops (which look a little jumpy as I cast my gaze their way), and lobster (lobster sashimi makes my knees buckle). Even though I love swimming in the ocean for hours at a time, drifting with the current, body surfing, and surface diving like a dolphin, I'm acutely aware of hatch's opening and closing times; and my right palm itches when I'm not holding my razor-sharp Japanese sashimi knife.

I'm going to take a little side trip now to a heavenly restaurant called Kream 'n Kone in West Dennis. It's a typical Cape Cod restaurant that specializes in fried seafood. Well- the reason I'm here is to eat some of the best fried clams on Earth. Wait- fried clams… something is coming back to me. Yes, it's the old Lobster Pot (or Down East Lobster Corp.) in Hartford, CT. They served the best fried clams EVER on Earth. They were miraculously free of grease, and the clams exploded in your mouth. The coating was something like tempura but maybe something they brought from their home planet, or Maine, or Japan. Their steamed clams were perfect. And their lobster meat roll was made of large chunks of lobster, warmed up in butter, served on a hotdog bun. Their shrimp cocktail was also perfect.

So- Kream 'n Kone is the place to go now, but every cardboard contained of fried clams, every lobster meat roll, every shrimp cocktail, and every plate of steamers will always be compared to those eaten at the Lobster Pot on Wethersfield Ave. in Hartford, CT. (I still remember the 30 minute drive from my house when I was a kid. After 15 minutes, my hands would be shaking. At 20 minutes, I was salivating so heavily that I was swallowing every 10 seconds. The last five minutes I had cramps. By the time I walked into the restaurant, I was physically spent.)

Back at Hatch's. I'm buying my morning supply of fish. This is one of 2 or 3 trips every day. I'm asking my family to eat an awful lot of raw fish every day. The fluke hasn't been filleted yet, so I patiently wait. Lo and behold, I'm rewarded with fluke roe, which I will cook. Scallops are in their shell and yield 3 treats beside the translucent (not white but translucent- remember this!) muscle. This is a good day so far! The tuna toro is so fatty that I can feel the oil run down my face. One more thing: fresh bluefish.

I'm unpacking at the rental house and thinking about which fish will get my family out of bed. The fluke should do it. I put the fluke on my cutting board and slice very, very thin slices, so they are translucent, and arrange the in a circle on a black dish. Each slice has a little spot of color, and those spots are all touching the edge of the plate. It's a beautiful way to serve fluke- or fugu (blowfish- which can kill you in an instant. Be careful- don't cut up blowfish yourself).

My family is not tempted yet, so I'll do the scallop. First the muscle, which shimmers. Then the red roe. Then the black organ. Finally the crunchy stuff along the perimeter. It' an orchestra of colors, textures, and tastes in a shell. Well, family, will this scallop and its accompaniment get you out of bed?

Back to the cutting board. The bluefish, because it is so fresh, is blue, free of fishy odors, fat, glistening, and crunchy. Tomorrow, it wouldn't be any of these. Hey folks- fresh bluefish sashimi??

No, but I have the piece de resistance: toro. I take the first bite, and it is so fatty that the oil runs down my chin, through my shirt, through my bathing suit, down my legs, and into my sneakers, which are now soggy and squishy. I cut a few more slices, not too thin and not too thick but just right, wave some in front of their faces, and they get out of bed. Pace yourselves, I say, for this is sashimi meal number 1 of 3 today.

The toro and fluke are gone. The bluefish is unfamiliar, and the black stuff from the scallop makes them run away.

There are more meals like this- every day. The fish is so good. We all feel healthy. We eat each bite giving the food our complete attention. This is the life!

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