Skate Fish, Anyone?

One evening, at a restaurant in NYC, I ordered "Skate au Beurre Noire". I didn't know what "skate" was but the waiter described it as "a white fish" so I naturally figured it must be something along the lines of flounder, halibut or sea bass. Feeling safe with that assumption and being sold on the words "au beurre noire", I gave it a try.

At first glance, the skate looked more or less like a normal plate of broiled or sauteed fish. (The image above is very similar to what my meal looked like.) At first bite, the taste seemed OK, but visually, the skate had a strange, fanned-out, ribbed appearance that wasn't very appealing. I suspended judgement and continued eating, though a dormant icky feeling began to fester inside. I left the restaurant engrossed in conversation and without reflecting on the meal. But on repeat visits to the same restaurant, a favorite of mine, I'd wince at the sight of "skate" on the menu. My memory of skate was that of a weird-looking fish bone packed on both sides with spindly, white-ish meat .

I recently discovered that skate isn't really a fish—at least, not in the typical fish head, gills, scales, fins and tail sense. To my gastronomical horror, I have learned that skate is a type of stingray:



How gross is that? (My apologies to those who enjoy skate fish.) Maybe if I had a more positive reaction to my skate dish that night, I wouldn't be so perturbed by this revelation. But having that bad-meal memory lodged in my head predisposed me to utter nausea upon learning that the mystery fish au beurre noire was a kite-shaped sea creature.

Stingrays seem to pop up in the darndest places in my life. While working as an editor for a watch magazine, I learned that the term "galuchat", a pebbly-textured watch strap, means stingray. Alligator straps are referred to as alligator, ostrich as ostrich and sharkskin as sharkskin, but stingray as galuchat? I guess no one loves a stingray, at least not openly:




And just when I thought I knew all the words for stingray, I encounter skate. And of all places, on my dinner plate. I know the world of culinary language has its deceptions—sweetbread anyone?—but when a customer inquires 'what type of fish is skate?', for the love of God, let's call a stingray a stingray. At any rate, the waiter was completely remiss in describing it as "white fish".

I don't pretend to be too squeamish when it comes to trying new foods; I've had escargot three times. All I'm asking is to know exactly what I'm being served. And, if I can manage to live the rest of my life without any more surprise encounters with anything remotely stingrayish, I'll be very happy.