Jessica F.
Yelp
There is no way to review this place, which is really more a review of a man than a business. Ray Turner has been catching eels in a handmade eel weir on the Delaware river for close to 30 years, and has built, along with the weir, his log and stone home, his smokehouse ("casa di fumo", LOL!!), his reputation as iconoclast and naturalist, and a persona so real, so original and so moving that visiting this place is not just a treat, but should be considered a moral obligation.
Trained as an engineer, he turned his back on the rat race after a stint in the army, built a cabin on the Delaware just south of Hancock, NY, stopped shaving or cutting his hair, and began catching eels-- "nature's perfect protein"-- and smoking them, along with shrimp the size of hamsters, quail, cornish hens, sides of bacon and trout. The small retail shop also sells a wide range of Pennsylvania Dutch style jams, jellies and pickles that aren't half bad.
The drive to his home defies directions, nestled in a little clearing on the actual banks of the river, which takes two miles of barely-paved road and then another two on a dirt road to get there. Handpainted signs that simply say "eel" point the way to a visionary's utopia.
Peter and I swung by there on our way out of Hancock, heading back to NYC by way of Route 17. The first sign is right by the turnoff, and I had been telling Peter about him for about thirty miles, so we figured it was meant to be. Ray "liked the cut of our jib" and could tell we were "you know, those kind of folks", and actually allowed us into the butchery where he fished (pun intended) a live eel out of a tank and proceeded to skin and chop it up. When I asked him how to cook it, he said basically, to dump some barbecue sauce on it and let it soak for however long I wanted, and then "cook it 'til it was done". He told me to remember to put half a lemon in there, too, because "fish and lemon go together like...you know...peas and carrots. Take your lemon, stick a fork in it, you know, and then, kind of mop your sauce on the fish when you're cookin' it.".
He talked about trees. He talked about his love for the river, and how hard he worked to restore some of the decimated banks from years of erosion and plant removal by previous owners. He talked lovingly of eels, of their unique qualities, their taste, how well they keep, and their protein analysis. Listening to him talk was something I could have done all day.
He also sold us a pound of the biggest shrimp I have ever seen, and two brand new trout, fished that morning, that were as shimmering and beautiful as opals. He gutted and scaled them, but, wanting to put my new filleting skills to the test, left them whole.
Walls in the small retail area are covered with articles about him, including one from a 2003 Gourmet Magazine profile by Jane and Michael Stern, and a recent (2006) NY Times profile. While he wrapped up our eel he told us about filming a PBS documentary in the middle of winter as he built the eel weir, with the director and camera people in the middle of the river, with him.
There is simply nothing like this place, and there is nobody like Ray. He lives his life doing just what he wants, answering to nobody, caretaking natural resources and speaking his mind.
When we left, I shook his hand and said "God bless you", and I'm an atheist. His is a happiness that comes from genuine love of life, and an inspiring one.