Mutual Fish just feels right: white tile, men in rubber boots, and

Mutual Fish just feels right: white tile, men in rubber boots, and a hint of brine in the air. Ocean-fresh, clear-eyed whole fish are nestled, gleaming, in ice. Whenever I walk in the door, all my fears are allayed: Crabs—check. Salmon—check. Black cod—check. Spot prawns—check. Whole albacore, Pacific sardines, and local sea urchin in season—check, check, and check. If they don’t have it, you don’t want it. The seafood does not merely need to be fresh, it has to be the freshest. I’ve chatted with sea-urchin divers in the parking lot (unloading their still-squirming prickly catch), random strangers at parties, and devoted customers waiting in line. Everyone says the same thing: Mutual Fish is the only place to buy fish in town. Seafood is always a splurge. At Mutual Fish, I know that what I take home will be well worth one.