“While there are certainly exceptions, many foods are best eaten when they are as fresh as they could be.” - Saying attributed to the Silver Maiden.

“Have these first,” said the merfolk woman as she placed the cooked oysters, laden with butter and cheese and topped with a slice of fermented fish egg sacs, two to a platter. Her younger daughter deftly placed the platters in front of Aideen’s group, clearly used to such work with the way she moved as if she had done such jobs a thousand times in the past.

“Then we’ll partake of the meal,” said Aideen as she lifted one of the oysters by the shell. The shell was still hot to the touch, but bearable for short periods of time, so she tilted the shell to her mouth and shoved its content in using the small wooden spoon she was provided.

Unlike the typically briny saltwater oysters Aideen was used to – most communities that live by the shore consume them in some form – the freshwater oyster had a cleaner, fresh, and subtle taste to it. There was a hint of sweetness to the flesh that the cooking seemed to amplify somewhat, which meshed well with the rich butter and molten cheese it was topped with.

Then the slice of fish eggs hit her tongue with its strong flavors. The fish eggs had been fermented like she guessed, and had a strong saltiness as well as spiciness to it, which contrasted greatly with the milder sweet richness of the rest of the dish, yet also helped bring the subtle, mild flavors more to the front by hint of comparison.

It also made her understand why the merfolk woman looked particularly exacting while she was cutting the sac of fermented fish eggs. Too much and it would have overwhelmed the subtle tastes, while too little and it wouldn’t have reached the desired effects.

“You like them, I see,” noted the merfolk proprietress as Aideen and the rest of her group emptied out the oyster shells on their plates. The woman ladled out steaming-hot soup into wooden bowls that her son then brought over to the group, carrying three bowls on each arm with ease. “Have some of these to warm up while the fish cooks.”

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The murky soup had a strong savory flavor, and there were plenty of fish meat, pieces of chopped up shellfish, and shredded algae floating in it. Supposedly it was made with the bones and the head of the fish, with most of the meat scraped out from what’s left sticking to the bones as well as the fish’s cheeks using a shell.

It was a warming soup with comforting savory flavors, the sort that tasted like the kind of cooking one would have at home, a flavor welcomed by the taste buds. The bits of fish in the soup were flaky and crumbled with a slight bit of pressure, while the shellfish retained their chewy texture and added to the experience.

Around the time they finished the soup, the fish that had been grilling over the charcoal had finished cooking, and the merfolk woman placed the cooked fish on wooden platters, giving it one last brushing of sauce before her son served it up. A platter with a butterflied fish was set between every two members of the group, clearly meant for sharing between them.

Other than the grilled fish, a platter with several flatbreads and a small bowl that contained what seemed to be pieces of the fish’s intestines were also set on the table. The latter was not the ones from the fish the group was having as their meal, but came out from a jar from the rack that had a strong, fermented scent when it was opened.

“Those have been cleaned and fermented for a while. You can use it to add flavor if you like, give it a try,” said the proprietress as she looked towards the small bowls.

Aideen first gave the fish a try as it was, ripping off a small piece of the cooked flesh with her fingers. The flesh was flaky, but retained a firmness as well, so it did not crumble in her hand. She brought the piece to her mouth and chewed on it, and only then had the flaky fish crumbled apart inside her mouth. It had a savory flavor with a hint of sweetness typical of fresh fish, accentuated with a mouth-numbing spiciness and strong sourness from the sauce.

The juxtaposition of different flavors helped bring out the natural flavors of the fish even more, Aideen found.

Then she tried having it as the merfolk woman suggested, and tore off a piece of flatbread before adding another piece of grilled fish on it. She then used the small wooden fork that came with the dish to get a couple pieces of the sliced up and fermented fish intestines from the small wooden bowl, then placed them on top of the grilled fish.

She then wrapped it up with the flatbread and put the whole thing into her mouth.

At first, the mild, smoky flavor of the flatbread was all she tasted, but soon after, the fermented fish intestines made themselves known. They had a chewy texture and a strong, pungent flavor, one that would probably be an acquired taste to most people who weren’t used to seafood. Aideen had been around enough to not be bothered by the taste, though, and instead appreciated the strong, pleasant savoriness hidden behind the pungency, and how it meshed together well with the liberally spiced grilled fish.

For how simple the meal was, it provided a surprisingly well-crafted balance of flavors, with the strong flavors from the sauce and the fermented guts serving to accentuate and further draw out the natural flavors of the fish itself, without overwhelming them. Meanwhile, the plain flatbread moderated the flavors so things did not go too out of line, especially for those unused to such strong flavors.