from A Life In The Bush, Lessons From My Father by Roy MacGregor...
catching, cooking and eating fish in the bush with his father Duncan and Native friends.
"The women had large loaves of bread out and were slicing them on a board, thicker slices than I had ever seen. They looked big enough, and soft enough, to sleep on. There was pop out, and black tea boiling in an open pot."
"The fish were cleaned, but with the tails and heads left on and no effort made to remove the bones."
"The older man...had the huge skillet out and over the fire and was dumping in a large tin of butter. The butter sizzled and bubbled and blackened and hissed. It seemed to me as if he had accidentally put too much in the pan, for it seemed a cauldron of butter, but this, apparently, was exactly the way he wanted it. He dropped in several of the speckled-head, tails, bones and all."
"There were plates, real china, and everyone took one and lined up with their sliced bread and empty plates. The older woman came and pasted butter all over my bread. She said it would make the fish taste better. But all I could think about was the bones."
"When my turn came, the older man placed four or five nice-sized speckles on my bread, the grease and butter staining the bread black as he spooned them in.
I looked at Dunc."
""Go ahead" he said. "Indian style.""
"The other man howled with laughter. Over the fish and fire smells, I could smell more beer."
"I placed the other piece of bread over my death sandwich and turned to see what everyone else was doing. They all had the same sandwich I did, heads sticking out one end, tails the other. And they all were staring at me, waiting for the guest to begin."
"I picked up the huge sandwich and bit in from the side. I do not believe I had then, nor have I since, ever eaten anything that exploded with such desire in my mouth. Never had bread or butter or fish tasted so good."
"I could hardly wait for the next bite. I bit in, my eyes closed, and felt the grease and butter and fish run out my mouth and down my chin. I chewed, aware now that there were small bones, but they had all the substance of sardine bones and were instantly forgotten."
"There were pies out now, large sweet-smelling raspberry and blueberry pies, and they were being cut into huge slices and dumped right onto the same plates that were still black and slippery from the fish. I took raspberry, and it seemed the mixture made it even more delicious."
catching, cooking and eating fish in the bush with his father Duncan and Native friends.
"The women had large loaves of bread out and were slicing them on a board, thicker slices than I had ever seen. They looked big enough, and soft enough, to sleep on. There was pop out, and black tea boiling in an open pot."
"The fish were cleaned, but with the tails and heads left on and no effort made to remove the bones."
"The older man...had the huge skillet out and over the fire and was dumping in a large tin of butter. The butter sizzled and bubbled and blackened and hissed. It seemed to me as if he had accidentally put too much in the pan, for it seemed a cauldron of butter, but this, apparently, was exactly the way he wanted it. He dropped in several of the speckled-head, tails, bones and all."
"There were plates, real china, and everyone took one and lined up with their sliced bread and empty plates. The older woman came and pasted butter all over my bread. She said it would make the fish taste better. But all I could think about was the bones."
"When my turn came, the older man placed four or five nice-sized speckles on my bread, the grease and butter staining the bread black as he spooned them in.
I looked at Dunc."
""Go ahead" he said. "Indian style.""
"The other man howled with laughter. Over the fish and fire smells, I could smell more beer."
"I placed the other piece of bread over my death sandwich and turned to see what everyone else was doing. They all had the same sandwich I did, heads sticking out one end, tails the other. And they all were staring at me, waiting for the guest to begin."
"I picked up the huge sandwich and bit in from the side. I do not believe I had then, nor have I since, ever eaten anything that exploded with such desire in my mouth. Never had bread or butter or fish tasted so good."
"I could hardly wait for the next bite. I bit in, my eyes closed, and felt the grease and butter and fish run out my mouth and down my chin. I chewed, aware now that there were small bones, but they had all the substance of sardine bones and were instantly forgotten."
"There were pies out now, large sweet-smelling raspberry and blueberry pies, and they were being cut into huge slices and dumped right onto the same plates that were still black and slippery from the fish. I took raspberry, and it seemed the mixture made it even more delicious."
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