I Tried The Ocean's Foie Gras And It Was Weirdly Romantic

By Jenny Birce Category: Culinary Chaos 7th May 2026

Okay, quick visual: a fish that looks like it lost a fight with a sweater and somehow became a culinary flex. That is the monkfish. Also, hidden inside this grotesque little sea goblin is a liver so rich Japanese chefs call it ankimo and Americans sometimes call it the foie gras of the sea. I am not dramatizing this, I am simply living it.

Ankimo is literally prepared by taking the monkfish liver, removing the veins, massaging it with salt, rinsing with cold water and a splash of sake, then rolling it into a cylinder and steaming it until silk happens. The texture is dense and buttery, which is how you accidentally feel fancy and stuffed in equal measure. It is traditionally served chilled with ponzu, grated daikon, and a sliver of scallion so your mouth can experience a full emotional arc.

Here is the weird joyful fact: people revere the liver of an otherwise culinary afterthought. Monkfish meat is often the humble substitute for lobster, sold as the low-key glam meal, while its liver is elevated into something ceremonial. The contrast feels like discovering your awkward childhood pen pal is actually an enigmatic poet. Climactic and confusing.

Culturally this is not a flash-in-the-pan trend. Ankimo has roots in Japanese coastal cuisine where nothing edible got tossed-fishermen respected the sea by using every part. The liver is seasonal and best in colder months when fat content is higher, which explains why chefs get quietly excited about winter menus. It is umami heavy in a way that makes you want to take notes but also lie down.

And yes, it is slightly obscene to love something so lush that came from something so uncanny, which is probably why I adore it. Eating ankimo is a small lesson in culinary humility: beauty and decadence can hide in the strangest packages, and sometimes you will surrender to joy because a weird fish made a better dinner than you ever will.