Meat.
The older one doesn’t want it.
The younger one must have it.
We’ve got a fridge full of veggies but there ain’t no meat. I’m hesitating, finding things to do, avoiding
having to suit up and bike over to the market.
Puttering around the kitchen I notice a fish tail.
I’m not sure
where they came from. There is a vacuum-packed
mackerel with that lovely blue and black scaled shank on the side counter. It’s the whole fish, gutted and in a shopping
bag. I pause because I can’t tell if
this fish is for the taking and if it still fresh after spending the night in
this bag, vacuum packing or otherwise.
My wife
confirms that this is apparently serious fish.
A friend gave it to her as a gift and she wasn’t sure what to do with
it. Cutting the vacuum seals nothing
smells particularly fishy and I decide to bake the hell out of them and see how
it goes. A bit of olive oil, salt and
lemon and in they go.
Bony. But what do you expect when you have the
whole fish, head to tail? Maybe a little
well done. But I erred on the safe
side. It tastes good. The little one picks at it. She has more tofu tonight than she otherwise
might. The Mrs. and I do a bit of
filleting to get it ready, but afterwards eat our fill.
There’s a good bit left and I scrape it off the pan and put it in a bag
for the fridge. I’ll suspect I’ll be
substituting mackerel for my boring can of tuna in tomorrow’s salad.
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