Having the opportunity to consume fresh-caught scup, striper, blue fish, mussels and quahogs on a regular basis, thanks to a family cottage near Buzzards Bay and a father-in-law who loves to fish (father-in-common-law, to be accurate), is a privilege I try not to lord over my fellow city-dwelling friends too hard. Yet here I am, lording away. Hopefully I can make it up to you all with this recipe disaster tale that ends in deliciousness. If you’re biased against bluefish for its “fishy” taste or mayonnaise for its unnerving off-whiteness, you might say that this recipe sounds like a nightmare wrapped in a bad dream. If that’s the case, think of it rather as two-wrongs-make-a-right. Add “liquid” to “mayonnaise” and you have three wrongs that definitely make a right. Basically, this recipe involves being begged to make that homemade mayonnaise again—it’s just so much better when you make it from scratch—and then huffing a bit as you get out the hand mixer. You do your best to pour the oil at the correct pace to emulsify the raw egg-mustard-vinegar mixture properly, but alas fail to achieve the required jiggly-yet-creamy consistency. Not realizing what liquid gold you have in your very hands, you pour it down the drain and (huffily) start over. Round two—you pour the oil even slower and whip even faster—but to no avail. With the grill heating up, the fish hanging out, and the Miracle Whip taunting you from the fridge, you go with your gut and pour the liquid mayo all over the fish (which has been topped with onion and lemon slices, paprika, salt and pepper). You close the foil above the fish to create a tent-like atmosphere that traps some steam, and hope for the best. The results are awesome. The mayo SAUCE soaks into the fish and blends with the fish-juice, and the egg gives it all a little more bounce. Sprinkle some fresh herbs on top and dig in. You’ll be psyched that you discovered the real “miracle whip”—an epic mayonnaise fail. JILL P.