Before I could get to the bulk of the gardening and yard work, I had to first hit Sophia's book fair, and then pick up some essentials at Sendik's (the local grocery store) and then pick up some seeds at the garden center. While I was at Sendik's I noticed a package of delectable, fresh, fat, smoked chubs. I had to have them. I put the package in my cart and spun around to go and get the expensive cream of asparagus soup I'd seen over in the dairy isle. I was going to have a feast for lunch, to get me fueled up for gardening.
Some of you may be wondering what on earth is she talking about "smoked chubs??" If you don't know, here it is:
Yes, this is exactly what I had for lunch today, along with a steaming cup of gourmet cream of asparagus soup made with tarragon, and creme freche. MMmmm. It was Divine!!!
If you live in Wisconsin, or grew up in Wisconsin, chances are you've purchased fish of varied types at little places like this one: Ewigs Port Washington, WI I have strong, and very fond memories of drives with my Mother, either to my family's cottage, or up to Door County and stopping off to pick up some smoked fish. Mostly it was always chubs. Oh, sure, sometimes a white fish, but mostly it was chubs. The smell, and the taste will always be a delicacy to me; an ambrosia that takes me back to sunny, summer days, sitting at a park side picnic table, with an open box of smelly fish, some plastic forks and a pile of napkins; smiling at my Mother for her genius at having purchased this special treat. The smell of the fish lingers on the fingers for the entire day after you eat them, and I have to confess, I love to bring my fingers to my nose and inhale the memory of the little luncheon devoured with greedy joy just hours before.
Today was a day like one of those days, except I didn't have a 5 pound box of fish, I had three fish, and I wasn't with my Mom. I was alone, but the window was open, and the sun had started to peek out. The breeze was warm, thick and humid. The fish was absolutely delicious.
I'm sure that every person, from their home region has a food like this one, something that is so explicitly home, so much a part of the place and the person, that it just sits with them like the afghan that their grandmother knit them. Smoked fish is a deep running, common thread among Wisconsinites. Everyone knows what you're talking about when you mention it, and I'd say 99% of people will groan agreeably and utter words of desire if talk of smoked fish carries on too long. Often times it's poorly smoked, over done, salty, and dry, but you have to be a connoisseur. You have to be able to feel the fish, look at the oil, and yes, you want it to be oily; test that it's flesh gives way a bit when lightly pressed. That way you know you've got a moist, meaty, mild tasting bit of heaven. All that's needed to accompany this lovely bit of fish, is possibly some Italian bread and butter, but really, nothing but the fish. Maybe a good beer, but, really, just the fish...
You can probably use the cable that came with Sophia's little camera.
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