A letter to seared ahi tuna

(Credit: Damon Winter)

My Dear Seared Ahi:

I hate to do this over dinner, but I think we need to start seeing other proteins.

Sure, we had our fun: Seared ahi appetizers. Seared ahi salads. Seared ahi tuna burgers. You used to be so… raw. But lately you seem to be showing up on every menu in town.

My friends told me to ignore you, but every time I show up at an L.A. restaurant—Kate Mantilini, Il Forno Caldo, Swingers—there you are. And now you’re dressed in wasabi reductions and tossed in miso vinaigrettes. You used to hate miso!

Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. (Sometimes I feel like you don’t know who you are anymore.) It’s not me; it’s you. My mom was right: she warned me that you’d be cold in the center.

I’m sorry it had to end this way. We’ll always have the Seared Ahi Tuna Sandwich at Newsroom.

                                                                           XOXO,

                                                                           Amir

                                                                           P.S. Do you still have my Audioslave cd?