A few weeks back I woke up at the ass of dawn to head out to Port Washington, Long Island with my sister, a friend from school, and my buddy Harold Dieterle. We'd been talking about heading out for stipers—as striped bass are called—for years, but it's not always easy for a working chef and a writer-on-too-many-deadlines to find mutual time off to do it. We jumped at the chance when it arose. We were on the water by 5:30, and cooking up a storm by mid-afternoon. Come take a look at the photos.