Eating Food #6 - Sea Urchin

You'll never guess where I first ate raw sea urchin. Go on, take a wild stab... No. Not Japan. It was Greece.

It was the island of Paros. (Did you know there's an island opposite called Anti Paros? What a great name for your twin island. We should call Iceland Anti Greenland, or the Isle of Wight Anti Isle of Man.) It's not a big island and, as with every place on the backpacking trail, it full of hawkers waiting for you to come off the ferry so they can sell you their rooms at their bodegas. It's not your usual crowd though, not just young men shouting and waving glossing used pamphlets, but old leathery blokes trying to get you to stay at their house.

This initial rush of people is soon subsided and they disperse. In the evening, all evidence of that initial rush is gone. When I went (maybe 5 years ago now) it was quiet. No thumping clubs or loud bars. No hen nor stag parties. You could walk along the beach and hear the waves. A few people flitted around, looking at the chalkboards and the fairy lights. The restaurants and cafes have that warm glow instead of electric neon signs. Most of them seemed nearly empty and only entertained their own staff. They were quite content to talk amongst themselves.

The restaurant was recommended by the hotel owner. I remember he was Italian. He said the seafood was great and everything was freshly caught on that day. To get to the restaurant, we had to go down a dark side road which opened onto a cozy al fresco dining area. Again those soft fairy lights hung above us. We looked at the menu, but couldn't really decide what to have. The waiter (who was also probably the owner) said he'd order for us. We said ok.

The first dish was sea urchin (raw). I don't remember anything else we ate that night. It wasn't actually on the menu because he only found them that day while diving. It was in a small ceramic bowl. Because it was dark, I couldn't quite see the colour of the sea urchin. I think it was orange. I asked the waiter how to eat it. He said to put it in my mouth.

There's a certain sweetness to seafood when it is fresh. A natural sweetness which is quite unlike sugar or any sugar you get from fruit. You can taste it in fresh fish and especially in fresh prawns, crabs or lobster. Despite the saltiness of the seawater, the sea urchin had this sweetness. It was nothing but this sweetness. The texture is almost non existent. It melts in your mouth. It dissolves as you press your tongue against it and there is nothing to swallow. It is pure taste. It's that magical sweetness.

I have since had sea urchin in Japan. (It's called uni, pronounced ou-knee) It is a common delicacy with sushi, though more expensive than your usual tuna or squid. It still holds that mysterious and subtle quality that it first had. You can't have too much, but the amount you eat is never enough either. It can never fill you up, and if you think about it like that, is almost redundant as food. I guess we are so used to that concept that we don't even think about anymore. Like liquorish lace or ketchup.

The only other thing I remember about that meal was the waiter/owner gave us a free dessert. I can't remember what it was, but I remember thinking at the time it was quite good. The rest of the night was soft and warm. We walked back to the hotel the same way we came. Along the road, by the sea; we could still hear the wash and gentle lapping waves. The cafes were closing up and the staff were putting chairs on tables. Others were wiping the chalkboard clean, all ready for tomorrow.