Nathalie Dupree's Favorite Stories & Recipes by Nathalie Dupree

Author:Nathalie Dupree
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gibbs Smith
Published: 2019-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

First Fish

It was a cold and choppy day when we set out from shore to go fishing, and if I hadn’t said I’d go, I would have stayed at home. But I was committed and making the best of it. I had dressed for the occasion with a sweatshirt and blue jeans over my bathing suit, socks up to my knees, and tennis shoes, not rubber sandals. But I wished I had galoshes.

Suddenly, after an hour of misery, the weather lifted and the motor stopped smelling so vile, and the boat stopped rocking. The sun greeted us as an old friend, tanning us with warmth and radiance above the reflected sea. With the sea and sun as our only comrades, my friend and I lolled under the clear sky, laughing and talking and reading short stories and making up limericks, giggling at the globs of protective cream on our noses and tummies. And we caught a few fish.

Most of them were small bluefish. The larger ones we either didn’t know how to catch or they weren’t coming in that close to shore. I landed my first fish at the end of the day. We packed all the fish in ice, and a willing fisherman cleaned them for a small consideration on the tiny dock. It was my time to cook, and we were eager.

When the sea and sun marry with laughter, there’s avhungry completeness that seasons the food. Coupled with the smell of sea on clothes and hair, and the pride of achievement, anticipation dances on a high wire before the meal.

I broiled my bluefish in a flat enamel plate/lid, with a little wine and butter. I was proud of my fish, my first fish, and arrogantly carried him to the table. Somehow, I slid and stumbled and my fish gently slithered out onto the floor. I nearly wept. My friend, dear soul, knew my anguish, and slipped a spatula under my fish and placed him back on the platter, saying, “We won’t eat the skin on the bottom where he touched the floor.” My tears dried on their way to my cheek, and we looked out the window at our friend the sun traveling down the sky and talked and marveled at the specialness of simple fresh fish.

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