It wasn't my intention to write another "foodie" related essay this week. My blog is after all about gardening. But then again, it's also about tradition. So when fate intervened this week and presented me with an interesting topic to think about, one having nothing to do with gardening, I felt in a way compelled to write about it.
Here's the story: My spouse, Marc, is an attorney here in Massachusetts. He's built from the ground up his own practice specializing in immigration law. Marc works long hours, is often stressed to near his breaking point, but at the end of the day, enjoys being his own boss. He's developed strong relationships within the hardworking immigrant community near where we live, which includes many of his own clients. That being said, it wasn't a complete surprise that he phoned me at work Tuesday morning to say that there would be a 15-pound striped bass waiting for me at home. You see, one of his clients caught this big fella the night before off the coast of Gloucester (the setting for the book, "The Perfect Storm," for those of you not from this part of the world). As it was conveyed to me, the client was very grateful for all of the hard work that had been done on his behalf, was immensely proud of his latest catch and very much wanted Marc to have it. So how could he refuse such a gift? He couldn't.
Fish stock: what was left of our friend, celery,
carrots, onion, thyme and bay leavesWhile it had not dawn on me at first, I soon realized how significant and meaningful this fish was to this client, and ultimately, to us. His was a culture that truly valued food. After all, how many of us take the time out to catch our next meal? I couldn't help but wonder, what better way is there to express your gratitude, praise or well wishes to someone else than by offering them the gift of your most prized food? Maybe if we'd been alive a few decades ago or were living in another part of the world, the answer would have been more blatantly obvious, especially if such an act came at the expense of feeding our own family. But alas, the finer and more traditional lessons of social etiquette are often overlooked in this day and age. I'll have to remind myself of this the next time a special occasion comes along and I find myself heading to the mall.
Pan-seared Striped Bass, Homegrown Pak Choi, Mushroom Risotto
After I arrived home from work, I opened the refrigerator door and came face to face literally with my next meal, something I'm embarrassed to admit I haven't had to do in a long time. Thankfully, he was already gutted and scaled by our benefactor, the prospect of having to do this was something I had been trying to psych myself up for all afternoon. And as I carved him up that night, I found myself thinking that what this kind client had done was something my dad (who was also an avid fisherman) would have done and did do so many times during his life. The only question remained, how do you fully appreciate such a gift? Simple. We gave Mr. Striped Bass the proper culinary treatment he deserved, shared him with our lovely next door neighbor, and toasted to the fisherman that caught him.
Gone too soon.
And if anyone has any ideas on what I can do with all of this fish stock, please let me know!
