It was fish and seafood night. I was not looking forward to this particular class. It’s hard for me to not look at fish and think of my dad. My mom has the best stories of when we were little and living on Ft. Hancock at Sandy Hook, NJ. When Dad was not working or on duty, he was fishing and crabbing. He came home with everything that swam in the Atlantic or Navasink River, either by surf fishing or of the boat.
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| Almond-Parmesan Encrusted Spot, basil fettuccine, Mediterranean sauce and pan fried artichoke hearts |
Ever since he died from complications of lung cancer that was created from Agent Orange floating around in his body since the Viet Nam War, I have not had a good time with fish. It was not tasty or the smell would just make me ill. This was a class I was just dreading. Suck it up Mary Joe, I told myself, and pray you have shrimp, lobster, or crab,I am really good with lobster. But nope no luck, Chef Emi had beautiful Spot. Really cute and flavorful Spot! Chef Emi gave us a quick demonstration of scaling and filleting. And I went to town; scales are flying, and then wham! I did It cleaned the fish and had filet’s. I was amazed that I did it with no thought. I was excited, I was on a role. By this time Brianna made it to class and she was paired up with me. I told her the basics, and get Chef Emi to show her the fillet part, I started getting started on this sweet and spicy Mediterranean sauce, to go over the basil pasta I made the other day, and went over to roll out the pasta. Briana, was in control of her fish, and so I said what’s your thoughts what do you want to do. So she suggested Parmesan and almond encrusted Spot. What a great idea! It really did turn out pretty good. And I was happy I made it through the class I was dreading. My next step was taking some of the Spot home and try it there. Again another challenge for me, since my son and Husband are avid fishermen. They literally turned their noses up at the thought of taking these little fish and scale and fillet them. SNOTS! Ok, that was childish. But the next day when
I took them out to cook them for dinner, they decided that I was doing it all wrong and took over. And my thoughts of broiled or grilled fish went out the window when a thirteen year old's stomach is
talking; everything has to be fried or smothered in cheese and energy drinks. Thirteen year old man-boys are weird. Really weird! So they did the cave man thing and went outside and cleaned fish. Then got back into the kitchen and fried up the fish, and went to town eating something they laughed at the day before. So who is laughing now?
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