To a blogger, internet capabilities are as important as a working faucet/Brita filter/gin and tonic is to proper hydration. Imagine my surprise(rather, feigned surprise as I have Time Warner cable) when come Wednesday, the day of my promised continuation of SM Seafood coverage, I was a victim of an interwebz fail. Little did I know that it would progress into epic proportions as the downtime dragged on through Saturday night hogtying my writing ambition with it.

Here I was subjected to WiFi coffeehouses where I attempted to strangle my focus back from neighboring conversations about the lucky number 8 and it’s possible effects on karma and your life. Oh wait, that’s right now. For some crazy wild reason, I *think* I get more done outside of my house.

Monday night last week I kidnapped a cohort to Santa Monica to partake in more seafood ingestion. First, I tried the oysters. Mind you, I’m not an “oyster” person. I am not a master of the scrape and suck. However, I felt it pure blasphemy to be once again seated at an oyster bar as all the main dining tables were taken and NOT eat oysters. As I was poised to take a Fatal Frame shot of my meal, I realized that my battery was 100% drained. Thank God for friends with Nokia N95s. I quickly made a Malpeque oyster my latest esophageal victim. It was “the yum”.

My dining companion chose to partake in the New England Clam Chowder which was slopped up into a mug as mine earlier sans saucer, but with two bonus packs of oyster crackers. Score.

I was drooling over a mental picture of the salmon crudo all afternoon and ordered it up with glee. It arrived looking just as good as expected, topped with thinly sliced shallots and juicy shreds of ruby grapefruit. Yes, it’s raw. Mmmff. And it was so very soft and delicious, the tart citrus complementing the supple flesh in a way that could only end in mouth melting perfection.

My friend evidently couldn’t get enough of the salmon and went for the cooked salmon(totally not the correct name-where’s my togo menu?) which was excellently prepared with a touch of pink flesh full of juicy goodness permeating the center filet.

And of course, I ordered the cioppino. This was some damn good cioppino which I was hoping it would be after about a 45 minute wait for my dish. The stew base had some serious “BAM!” going on which I happily soaked up with my accompanying grilled ciabatta slice. A variety of seastuffs(clams, mussels, fish) and several huge shrimp were crammed into the shallow bowl, all cooked to a point of easy separation from their exoskeleton. I love cioppino, but I don’t love wearing it. Thank you SM Seafood for making a delicious cioppino that I can eat like a lady.

Oh yeah, the SM Seafood staff were seriously backed up and frazzled by the end of the night. I’m actually even more happy that we ended up being seated at the bar again, as our bartender/server Mike handled the roller coaster of a night like a champ. Not only was he responsible for all bartending duties for the rest of the restaurant, he was assisting at the oyster bar, tracking down my very tardy order, and still maintaining a surprising amount of composure come 9pm. Even though our meal took about an hour and a half, it was seriously worth it, although I wouldn’t mind if the next time I go takes considerable less to eat.

If I had any friends, I would have called them today to go to this: the grand (re)opening of Santa Monica Seafood. Being a socially awkward, fat and friendless foodiast(new word!), I went by myself to eat alongside other lonely food geeks.

Santa Monica Seafood Company has been in existence since 1939. That sounds nice to me being of the generation who likes things to be new and flashy yet also have an established history. Regardless of people’s decisions to come here today(personally, I would have stayed far away but food makes me do crazy things), all ages were solidly represented. And if the mature gentleman next to me was any indication, chances are a good amount of people already shopped at Santa Monica Seafood for fresh fish and were pleasantly surprised by how good the cioppino was in the cafe.

The inside would be spacious if there weren’t so many fish fiends swimming about, complete with a tiny wine and cheese selection, various spendy sauces, Valrhona chocolate bars, and gourmet stuffs. Screw all that, I was there for sea creatures. The horseshoe shaped seafood counter was chock full of them, everything from rock lobster to stingrays to narwhals. Okay, kidding about the narwhals, but there were plenty of colorful plump filets and shellfish.

Since I already submitted my non-refundable quarter to the LA meter maids, I decided to stick out the wait with a the ravenous grumpy line of pre-menstrual customers for a seat. And since today was opening day the managers were working, taking names in a somewhat orderly fashion. I was pleased to take a pedestal at the snowy marble oyster bar in an effort to discourage mad-dogging as a result of occupying a 2-seat table.

The mother-daughter duo to my right was quite pleasant, perhaps because I caught up with them post-meal(and post-wine for that matter). I had my heart set on some Scottish salmon, but was easily persuaded to try out the tuna melt by a fellow New Jerseyan. And I couldn’t pass up the New England clam chowder because I hear all that dairy is good for bone health. And fat cells.

The chowder was delivered in a large pristine mug, a good amount for a $3 cup. No crackers here, but the bar was adorned with glass bud vases full of tall crunchy breadsticks that made due when broken into 1 inch cylinders. For a chowder on opening day it was rather good–just about the right consistency and richness. The base was a little more bland than I prefer with a bit many chopped celery pieces and a bit too few clam pieces. Small diced potatoes and cilantro livened it up a bit, but I would have preferred some fresh cracked black pepper and of course, some bacon. Alas, there was none.

I spent the 30 minutes waiting for my lost tuna melt sandwich to drool over other patrons food and slapping my hand from trying to take pictures of other people’s food. Being a plain wallflower I found pleasure in lending my ear to my neighbor’s stories about visiting Italy for luggage design inspiration, servicing their Mercedes Benz, and the best places for oysters in San Francisco.

At last my meal arrived with a heartfelt apology and a wave of oohs and aahs from the oyster bar. I dug right in(after taking pictures, silly). My mouth met with an unfamiliar taste of fresh tuna. I enjoyed canned tuna velveeta melts in the toaster oven for years as a child, but this wasn’t anything like that. It was like the first time tasting crisp green beans that weren’t dreadfully boiled to a withering olive color.

Sandwiched between 2 crisp pieces of puckery sourdough was a delightful mix of white tuna speckled with mild spices. The upper deck was smothered in creamy melted cheese oozing ever so gently out of the sides like ivory lava. Below the tuna thinly sliced tomatoes bravely suffocated held firmly in place against the bread. Accompanying the sandwich was a pile of lovely green mesclun, gently flavored with tart lemon juice, a whisper of olive oil and a dusting of fleur de sel.

I decided to practice portion control although I could have stuffed my face with the whole thing and took the other half home. Besides, my 40-minute meter was running out for the second time and all my neighbors had been rotated out at least twice. Despite the crowded conditions and the extended wait times for food, I would definitely come here again. Like tonight. That cioppino looked mighty tasty.