Staff Reporter
It was Nestor Trejo who planted the stingray seed. His brother, Jorge, caught one while we were fishing for speckled trout under the lights in the bay one night a couple of years back.
Holding the ray's treacherously barbed tail down with a paddle, Jorge unhooked it and tossed it in the ice box with the rest of our fish.
In my family we cursed rays, not ate them, a prejudice handed down for generations. In fact, I'd never heard of anyone eating one. I protested mildly that we should turn it loose as the ray flopped around in the cooler, but the boys wouldn't hear of it. In fact, they were excited.
"Oh no, stingray is good. Very good. Delicious," Nestor said, patting his belly. "You fry the wings."
Nestor was the head cook at the El Giro in Fairhope at the time and I have personally eaten trout, redfish, snapper, mackerel and flounder he stuffed, baked, broiled, fried or turned into ceviche. Everything he has ever fed me was exquisite.
I agreed to try the ray the next night but got hung up at work. It was all gone by the time I got to the restaurant.
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