The two specimens smelled of saltwater, the way fresh fish will. The eyes were clear and bright, the flesh firm to the touch.

Someone had been kind enough to gut them. The slit on both carcasses was ragged, surprisingly red at the edges. Bright silver skin was still clad in scales.

Not having the proper tool, I deployed a breadknife. A few clumsy strokes later and the fish were ready.

I was determined to cook them with no seasoning, so a cast-iron pan was shimmery with only olive oil. I wanted, simply, to know what menhaden taste like.

We've written about the fish for years, about the tension between the company that pulls them by the ton from the Chesapeake Bay and the legislators who protect Omega Protein from regulators. About the jobs that the company provides in the Reedville plant where it turns menhaden into fish meal and oil. About the environmentalists concerned about the impact industrial harvest is having on the ecosystem, and the folks who say the company is wrecking the sport fishery.

In almost everything I've ever seen written about menhaden, the author invariably describes the humble baitfish as being so bony, oily and smelly as to be inedible.

It wasn't always that way. The first folks on our shores were sustained by menhaden, which teemed in the bay. People actually had recipes for it.

Read the full article at the Virginian-Pilot.