Why I don't eat Octopus! Octopus dreaming, Mae West & ...
The one and only Squiddly Diddly
Blake the Caerdydd artist inspired this story
I watch as he slowly creates his Octopus at the Bay in Caerdydd - Cardiff this weekend. “So you like Octopus then?” “I love them, they are magical, clever and kind.”
I used to eat everything from the sea,
especially squid and octopus. Don’t you love them? Crispy, dipped in bread-crumbs, a slither of lemon, fresh-fresh, the best. Squid is mainly known as calamari as that sounds better then squid which has a squidge like tone.
I remember the first time I ate calamari. We are in Oropesa Spain. Dad has bought some fresh from a fisherman and Mum cooks them up on a rickety campfire for us kids. When I close my eyes, now, I can taste fish and smoke and feel that ache of a prettier past.
I lived 17 years in French Canada,
off the artery of Montreal’s Boulevard St. Laurent where life exudes its cultural magic of mixed peoples, with a bi-lingual tapestry of French and English and an undercurrent of about every language known to man.
I start out my new immigrant life in the Haitian Ahuntsic-Cartierville area, right up on the northern tip of the St. Laurent, near the river. By the time I leave Montreal, I have slowly slip-slid down to the Greek, Italian, Jewish and Portuguese neighbourhoods, and finally end up at the bottom end which is old Chinatown. As I slide, I eat my way through the culinary delights. Especially Cephalopoda.
In the small Haitian restaurants
you can find spicy lemony grilled octopus where the main ingredients are: cayenne, chili and paprika. The octopus is cooked and chilled then fried with a hot spicy sauce.
Then we go, our gang, to Marvan’s with regular gusto in Park X, the Greek quarter. The plates of Calamari seem, in my memory, to be mountains high, with a backdrop of loud chatter, and white paper tablecloths on long tables that you squeeze along into, with unknown groups, the perfect late-night stop-over before hitting a bar or club.
Or we head down to Little Italy a few blocks south, where the name calamari originates from. The Italian word for Ink Pot is - “calamaro” -get it, the black ink that sprays everywhere. The Italians eat their calamari less wildly then the Greeks, with delicatezza - delicacy. Thinly sliced and pretty on china plates, where the tables are clothed with white cotton tablecloths, all this to a backdrop of the sultry, wide-eyed goddess, Mina Anna Maria Mazzin,
iconic!
The Portuguese fry, stew or grill their Octopus. Chez les Portugais, owned by Henrique Laranjo, sadly now closed, used to sell the most wonderful squid stew steeped in Maderia wine. He never gave the recipe away.
Finally, we arrive in Chinatown almost at the harbour edge of Montreal’s port, where you can find dark inky squid soup so tender, I often re-order it, finishing off with salt and pepper squid. (The Chinese like to use the word squid - 乌贼Wūzéi).
Before I continue onto my Chinese story, a bit about Octopus/Squid
Scientists have studied the oldest octopus fossil and believe it lived well before the dinosaurs, around 330 million years ago.
Squid and Octopus belong to the class Cephalopoda, but are not from the same family, nor even distant cousins. Squid are from the Teuthida family, and Octopuses from the Octopodidae.
Squid like the surface of the water, whereas the Octopus love the deep, deep blue sea.
To get you in the mood - Ms: Mae West
One of my favourite songs!
They evolved independently, and cannot interbreed, as they diverged from each other around 300 million years ago. Yet, Squid have, like the Octopus, a hot intelligence.
They often are confused by type and taste.
Squids have triangular heads and ten limbs. The Octopuses have big round heads with eight limbs. Octopuses have LARGE brains. Actually, they have 9 brains and 3 hearts! A central brain, and one on each limb. At the base of each arm is a group of nerve cells which can control each arm independently, acting as smaller brains. (Ocean Conservation Trust).
Octopus are deemed to be cleverer than the Squid.
The nimble Octopus can solve problems, navigate around mysterious water mazes, and have been the topic of the wonderful film My Octopus Teacher from 2020.
Now my Octopus story
Once upon a few years ago I live by the sea in China, in a city which tilts, facing South Korea and Japan. It is called Qingdao.
Qingdao is on the east coast and beloved by the Chinese. Housed in Shandong province the home of the great Confucius, and also of Mencius the Chinese philosopher who spent much of his life travelling around the states offering counsel to different rulers. There is a form of inner dignity in this province, as if this culture of personal ethics and morality, kindness, respect and community service still seep, hundreds of years into the present. I am privileged to have this adventure for many years. I leap at each and every chance to know, learn and be a part of a China not many tourists would have the opportunity to live.
My Rule Number 1
Learn Chinese. Almost impossible as so many Chinese speak English or need to practise, so, I go down to Jinshahtan Beach where I spend hours with the fisherfolk, I am also making a film about my mother’s life; Mum was born in Shanghai, so I mix the two together, I can still tell you today the names of many of the fish.
I come home later to Wang Ying and his wife, Xihu, bags full with fish of all shapes and size, tiny shell fish, squid and octopus.
My Chinese family are extraordinary cooks, each night a fiesta. The favourite time of the day.
The day my story takes place is a really balmy day. I can not find any squid or octopus on the beach, as the fisherfolk have packed up early, so Wang Ying, Xihu and I go to the live fish market.
We come home with enough seafood to last a week and leave the squid and octopus in the sink and go for a long beach walk. Chinese food must be cooked quickly and instantly in minutes, not hours, and we chat over how and what would be cooked.
We come home two hours later
The front door opens up to the kitchen and I will never forget what we witness. Our fish market catch has escaped the sink, slid over the floor, and are wiggling to the balcony lead by the Octopuses.
We stand in absolute amazement. Then Xihu calmly says - we will then take them home, now!
We pick them up gently, one by one and put them in a large basket. Xihu sings a song from her hometown in Yunnan which I later record for the film about my mother called - When the Magpies Nest. (Listen to the song while you read the last paragraph.)
The moon is full, it is dramatic. Tiny Xihu leads the way across the beach, using her phone light to find our way. We go down to the sea, knee deep in water, and slowly place the creatures back where they belong. Florescent under the stars, slipping, sliding and backward swimming they disappear, I hope, for ever, away from us, the nets, the fisherfolk and the live fish market.
Since 2016, I have never eaten a Squid or Octopus!
Thank you Blake for reminding me of that night, long, long ago….
To finish my tale, Mr. Squiddly Diddly
My favourite cartoon when I was young. It is hard to find the episodes, but, by chance, I found this
Fictional character biography
The round-headed, sailor-hatted Squiddly (who resembles an octopus—albeit with only six tentacles—rather than a squid) is kept captive in an aquatic park known as Bubbleland and resides in a pool with his name on it. Squiddly Diddly is an aspiring musician and entertainer who makes many attempts to escape and attain musical stardom, but he is constantly foiled by Bubbleland's administrator Chief Winchley. In some episodes, Squiddly Diddly manages to escape, but chooses to return to Bubbleland after finding the outside world to be too harsh. (From Wikipedia)
ENJOY!
So that is it folks!
Spend a great new month ahead.
Thank you for your support, it means a lot to me.
And, onto my next monthly story which is never planned, just pops up, out of the blue and catches my heart.
What a visual! You took me right into that kitchen and the Cephalopoda parade from sink to balcony.