Ventresca de Atún a la Brasa

In the Strait of Gibraltar, each spring, Atlantic bluefin tuna migrate from the Atlantic into the Mediterranean to spawn. They are intercepted — as they have been for over three thousand years — by the almadraba, a maze of nets anchored to the seabed that channels the fish into progressively narrower enclosures, culminating in the levanto, where they are killed by hand. The almadraba was used by the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Moors, and the Andalusians of modern Cádiz. It is one of the oldest continuously-practiced fishing methods on earth.

A bluefin tuna caught in almadraba is butchered the next day on the docks of Zahara de los Atunes or Barbate, and what emerges from the animal is a map of cuts. The ventresca is the belly cut — the richest, fattiest portion, streaked with white marbling that makes it taste almost like wagyu if you close your eyes. It is the most prized cut on the most prized fish, and when the almadraba is in season in May, restaurants from Cádiz to Tokyo will pay any price for it.

You will not be buying almadraba-caught tuna in Miami. But you can buy sashimi-grade bluefin ventresca from a handful of premium fishmongers — Honolulu Fish Co can source it when in season, Regalis stocks it occasionally, and some high-end Miami sushi importers carry it for off-menu sale to restaurants. If you can find it, at the right price, this is what to do with it.

The cook is trivial. Hot kamado, direct heat, 70 seconds a side. Salt, oil, lemon. Stop. The entire discipline of this recipe is not doing too much. You can ruin ventresca by overcooking it (goes from buttery to leather in 15 seconds). You can ruin it by over-seasoning (salt + oil + lemon is all it needs). You can ruin it by saucing it (you would not sauce sashimi; this is grilled sashimi). The cut does the work. You set the fire, you time the flip, you get out of the way.