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| - I go to the Fish Market sort of compulsively. Having lived in Florida for some 15 years, I grew accustomed to really fresh seafood. I hated just about everything else about Florida, so it's a good thing I love seafood or I wouldn't have any good words for the state at all. Anyway, being accustomed to really fresh seafood lays bare all other claims that places make to being "fresh," and while the Fish Market might be one of the best games in town, ultimately, you're left to realize that that town is Phoenix, and it's in the middle of the desert. It's like the fish remains get depressed or something, the insult of being shipped to the desert being added to the injury of death. This, even coupled with the fact that all the entrees I've tried there were mediocre, wouldn't be enough to make me give it a bad review. No, the poor review comes because, every other year as I lumber back for my biannual visit filled with hope, I am reminded why I told myself last time I wouldn't ever come back. The portions are stupid. I mean really stupid. I'd probably be more inclined to go there if they were twice as expensive as they are if they would simply provide me with a meal that filled up a whole plate. I have never seen them do this. I walk out every time and stop off for a filet-o-fish at the nearby McDonalds to fill the void and then go home and cry. Ok, I'm kidding about the filet-o-fish.
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