Alaska Cooks

The sesame oil smokes, and the heavy scent tells me it is time. I lay out thin strips of tuna on a plate, dust them with ground sea salt, and sprinkle fresh cut cilantro over the top. I ladle small spoonfuls of smoking oil, dribble it over the plate of tuna. It sears and pops under the heat. The thinner edges whiten and curl like little bacon strips. I pop tuna into my mouth, greedy, burning my lips and fingers in the process. It’s worth it. I sit on the deck, in the late Alaskan sunshine, and finish the plate and half a bottle of a good Pinot Grigio, wiping the sesame oil and salt up with torn chunks of ciabatta.