“You
know why they call ‘em hush puppies?”- My Dad
“Why”-
Me
“At
the end of the fish fry, when the dogs are howlin’ and beggin’, the chef rolls
a few balls from the remaining batter. He fries ‘em up, throws ‘em to the dogs,
and says ‘Hush puppies!’”-My Dad
The pomegranates were
so ripe they were splitting open on the trees, and after finding a nice patch
of wild grape with my buddy Alex, I could resist no more. It was time to get
foraging!
The Ph.D. program has
been very time consuming, so I have not been posting nearly as much this
quarter. That being said, I got to the point last weekend where I just really
couldn’t read another page of anthropological theory…so I decided to check out
my new foraging zone.
I would far rather
support my local COOP grocer than Safeway, but as I was already in their
parking lot picking up some hooks and sinkers from the local fishing shop, I
stopped into the Safeway for some bait. They looked at me like I was nuts when
I requested squid. No luck. But they had prawns. I don’t ever buy prawns
because it is one of the least sustainable fisheries in the world (and the
farmed varieties pollute the ocean way too much!) But, I needed bait, so I
asked the butcher for two. “Two pounds commin up” he said. “No,” I replied with
a chuckle, “Two prawns.” He looked at me with the same blank stare…like I was
crazy. “What are you doin with two prawns?” he asked perplexed. “Goin fishin!”
I replied with a grin.
I found a nice spot on
the Sacramento River with a jagged cobble bottom. The opposite river bank was
heavily wooded. In the evening sun the calls of nesting red tailed hawks could
be heard echoing into the distance. As I cast my bait out to a slack pool
behind a riffle, I began to hear splashing up river. I thought it was a fish at
first…maybe a fall run salmon…but soon a little furry form climbed out onto the
river bank.
As my eyes strained to
identify its distant form, another popped its head out of the water and slammed
a broad flat tail on the surface of the stream so loud the first animal jumped
into the air and then back into the water where they proceeded to play.
Beavers! These were the first wild beavers I have ever seen in California. The
day was already off to a good start.
After a time I started
getting impatient so I wedged the handle of the fishing rod into the rocky bank
and swam out looking for crawdads. I found about 10, but the current was so
fast I didn’t get a single one. I was even more disheartened when I didn’t come
across a single fish! I was starting to think I had picked the wrong spot.
Then, just as I had one
foot out of the water while the other was still in my fin’s foot pocket, my
fishing rod flew out of its mooring through the air towards the river. Luckily
I was in between the pole and the water and it landed straight in my hand! I
was momentarily in awe. With a quick look around I thought “Come on! Somebody had to have seen that!” But there was no
one without fur or feathers to witness my ninja instincts. My daze was
instantly broken when I felt those distinctive tugs! “Fish On!” I hollered
aloud to the beavers on the far bank.
The fight was pretty
fun (I had admittedly forgotten how pleasurable a little H&L in fresh water
could be), and soon I swooped in with my Grandpa’s old net and held up my first
ever catfish!
That night I made up a
batch of wild grape-pomegranate-habañero sauce and got to filleting and frying.
We had a batch of hush puppies and golden brown beer-battered fish cutlets in
no time flat.
Dinner was a simple
southern classic- Catfish Po boy’s. And they were well received. With a little
drizzle of freshly foraged spicy reduction sauce and I was in freshwater angler
heaven!
Well, I have been
praying for rain (this has been the driest January-November in 100 years in
California) and today my prayers were answered! Wish us luck, because I smell
mushrooms on the horizon!
Keep the old ways
alive!
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