Hooked
When 13 women in the local food industry went fishing, the nibble they got came second to the bites they brought
It all started with an annual hunting trip, one that a group of Boston’s male chefs organize, no women allowed. The men hunt, kill, eat. “They don’t invite us, so we decided to do girls gone fishing,’’ says Carla Pallotta, co-owner with her sister Christine Pallotta of Nebo in the North End. The two called and e-mailed around town until they had gathered 11 other women who work in kitchens and other facets of the food industry.
One requirement: bring food. What is not required: fishing skills.
“This is how the girls go fishing,’’ Carla says, sweeping her hand from side to side, pointing out the luxury fishing yacht the sisters are borrowing for the day. Pinatas hang on the back deck and the sisters have red, green, pink, and purple boas for the guests. Inside the swanky boat, white sangria and Bloody Marys, already prepared, are waiting. It’s a Monday morning, just after 10 a.m. The weather is cool and cloudy.
“We’ll show them up,’’ says Christine, of the male chefs who unknowingly inspired this outing.
Two professional crew members are on hand to offer the women a few pointers on how to fish, and to slice into anything caught that day. (The crew and the captain are the only men on board.) The Pallotta sisters are hoping to snag striped bass or tuna.
It turns out that preparing fish and catching fish are two very separate worlds.
“I don’t have to go into the water to fish, do I?,’’ asks chef Joanne Chang, owner of Flour Bakery + Cafe and co-owner with her husband, Christopher Myers, of Myers + Chang. “I don’t swim. You just stand there, right?’’
“I went fishing once in a lake,’’ says Nancy Cushman, co-owner of O Ya, a Japanese restaurant where fish is the star. “Where’s the stunt fish?’’
Christine Pallotta cackles. She likes the idea: They should have brought along a gigantic, fake catch - at least for the photos. “Hey, you can serve what we catch at O Ya tonight,’’ she tells Cushman.
“I’m a New York City girl,’’ says Aura chef Rachel Klein. Her restaurant is in the Seaport Hotel, near the water. “I’m such a big carnivore,’’ she adds. “But being at the Seaport Hotel, I’ve really been introduced to the water, water taxis, yachts. I’m a lot more connected to what is happening down here,’’ she says, looking out over the harbor. “People are very proud of the water. To me, this is Boston.’’
The boat pulls away from the dock. Out in the water (location undisclosed at the captain’s request, lest he give away his hot fishing spot), the women are handed rods with live bait (the crew does the honors). The women cast and wait. A few start yelling. “I’ve got something,’’ someone shouts. But it’s been about 15 seconds and she’s told it’s just the live bait swimming away.
The crew has tried to manage expectations, pointing out that the women have a decent chance of catching stripers, but anything that doesn’t meet length limits set by the state must be tossed back into the water.
“You’ll grab me if I get pulled in, right?’’ asks Shannon Reed, who designs chef jackets. “I brought extra clothes.’’
Reed seems to expect that she’s going to snag a great white shark. “Are we fishing or is this a photo op?’’ she asks.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh,’’ calls one woman from the other side of the deck. “I have something,’’ yells another.
Both are false alarms.
“I need a drink,’’ says Carla Pallotta. She’s through fishing, having held a rod for a couple of minutes.
Tiffani Faison, sous chef at O Ya, has been fishing plenty of times, so she’s the calmest when her line seems to go momentarily taut. Her hook is snagged on the bottom.
And then commotion. Klein, the carnivorous city girl, is watching her rod bend away from her. It’s pulling hard. She’s caught something. “Ooh, ooh, ooh!’’ The crew gathers around for support. Klein is excited. Everyone is hoping it’s not a piece of trash from the harbor.
“That’s a fish!’’ says Klein, who has reeled in a 27-inch striped bass, its wet skin shimmering as a crew member holds it up to be measured. Alas, it’s 1 inch shy of the legal length and is promptly thrown back.
“I’m bummed,’’ says Klein.
“I got seaweed,’’ exclaims Reed. She seems happy enough.
“I just wanted the clothes,’’ says Christine Pallotta, who has donned a pair of orange waders and a captain’s hat. “I don’t care about the fish.’’
When the fish won’t bite, lunch becomes the focus. Faison assembles mini lobster rolls with roasted lobster meat, Aleppo pepper, and a roasted corn and onion mayo.
The Pallotta sisters have brought grilled shrimp marinated in scallions, oil, chili pepper, salt, black pepper, and garlic. They are tender with a hint of sweetness. Their sandwiches are made with Italian tuna, capers, artichokes, tomatoes, olive oil, and salt. They are flavorful, salty, and perfect for a day at sea.
Frozen mojitos are passed around the cabin. “I didn’t think dumplings were good boat food,’’ says Chang, who instead offers homemade Oreos and other cookies from her bakery.
A glimpse of a fish, a few rounds of drinks, some delectable food, and everyone is already talking about the follow-up trip. The group agrees that this has to become an annual tradition.
Everyone understands the rules: Come to have fun. Leave the men in the kitchen.
