Tara My Papa was one heck of a man. Honest, trustworthy, dedicated, patient, kind, hardworking, simple, loving...I could go on and on. One of his great loves was fishing. He loved it so much, that he made sure his kids and grandkids had the opportunity to learn and love it too. I remember digging up worms in his worm bed, learning to bait a hook with stuck and bloody fingers, starting off with a cane pole and graduating to a rod and reel, sitting on an upside-down 5 gallon bucket, and getting caught in the trees more times than I'd like to admit. He cultivated a love for the outdoors in me at a young age, and I still enjoy fishing today.
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My Nana's parents, who we called Pap and Granny Honey, also loved to fish. They decided to make use of a low spot behind their house and have a small pond dug. This turned out to be perfect for us kids, since Nana and Papa lived right next door! I remember thinking how magical and mysterious this small wooded pond was--never knowing what I'd pull out of that dark water.
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| While fishing was when I discovered just how patient my Papa was. I actually remember thinking one time, "Why in the world does he let us come fishing with him? He spends all of his time getting us untangled, and he doesn't even get a chance to do what he loves so much." Maybe I misunderstood what it was that he loved so much. It seems like just yesterday that I stood hot and sweaty, with spoon in hand, as he towered over me. Standing at that old enamel sink, scraping the scales back against their natural growth and watching them fly through the air (often times landing on my arms and face). The smell of fish lingering on my hands for what seemed like days along with the strand of mosquito bites down my legs that I couldn't stop scratching. (Which then made my legs smell like fish too.) |  |
From an early age, I remember loving the taste of fried fish. Our family usually gathered over a "fish fry" to celebrate birthdays, holidays and other special occasions. With such a large family to feed, this was one cost-effective way to please the crowd. Papa would fish for weekends, freezing his bounty, saving up for the big day. He and Nana would stand over the bubbling grease, waiting for the hushpuppies to float. Served alongside grits, homemade french fries, and slaw, it was a feast. He would stand in line with us kids, telling us what each piece was and what he thought we might like best. Then my mom or Nana would help us diligently pick it off of the bones to ensure we didn't accidentally swallow one and ruin the night. I'd sit barefoot at the table with my legs crisscrossed feeling like I was in heaven.
There was a period of time that I spent every Friday night with my grandparents. They, along with about 10 other couples, would gather at the cabin to hold a weekly fish fry. The men would spend their week catching as many fish as they could just so they would have an excuse to get together for supper. The women would bring in their specialties, whether it be a side or dessert, as their contribution. I remember sitting at a table, surrounded by "old women" talking about "old men", while the men gathered in the kitchen to chit chat and heat the grease. I didn't care that I was the only kid there--I got to eat my favorite meal and go home with my favorite people.
When my Papa got sick, I reflected on what it was about him that I admire and would miss so much. I decided that if I could marry someone that was half of the man he was, I would be happy. Little did I know that Phillip would come calling, and I would find him, too, honest, trustworthy, dedicated, patient, kind, hardworking, simple, and loving. The funny thing is, Phillip is also a carpenter (like my Papa), and he too loves to fish.
When my Papa got sick, I reflected on what it was about him that I admire and would miss so much. I decided that if I could marry someone that was half of the man he was, I would be happy. Little did I know that Phillip would come calling, and I would find him, too, honest, trustworthy, dedicated, patient, kind, hardworking, simple, and loving. The funny thing is, Phillip is also a carpenter (like my Papa), and he too loves to fish.
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Phillip's family has a deep love for fishing as well, and "fish frys" are a common occurrence around their house. Needless to say, I fit right in.
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Fried catfish and bream may seem like a poor man's dinner to some, but let me tell you, it's a feast fit for a king. I love the feeling of nostalgia and flood of memories that hot, greasy fish and homemade french fries bring. You know the old saying, "Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime."? It is easy to believe that if I had only eaten a plate of fish at family get-togethers, rather than investing in the experience of fishing as a child, I wouldn't feel the way I do today. Good thing my Papa taught us to fish, because it did more than feed us for a lifetime.
If fried fish is new to you, but you'd like to give it a try, take home the Deep South cookbook! It showcases traditional Southern meals, like fried catfish with hush puppies and tartar sauce. Yum!
And in case you didn't know, lemon pie is a must when fish is on the menu. If you don't have a recipe of your own that you love, try out our Southern Pies cookbook!
And in case you didn't know, lemon pie is a must when fish is on the menu. If you don't have a recipe of your own that you love, try out our Southern Pies cookbook!
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