Fish Story

Glory be to God for dappled things--

For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim . . . 

Gerard Manley Hopkins

My first catch of the day. He looks bigger in person.

Some of my earliest memories are of fishing on the south fork of the Gualala River in Northern California. We caught small rainbow trout in the swimming hole. Dad broke their necks with a twist between thumb and finger. Then we took them back to camp where mom fried them up in butter.

When I was a teenager, we trolled most of the lakes and rivers of northeast Washington for bass, walleye and, yes, rainbow trout. Like most teenagers, I was half-engaged--my rod in the water, my attention focused on a book. By the time I became an adult, I didn't bother with fishing anymore, partly because of the 16 years I spent as a vegetarian and partly because I was preoccupied with the young adult task of building my own life.

I'm 45 now, and for some reason I haven't been able to stop thinking about fishing. Part of the attraction is that I get to spend time with Dad and Auntie Ma. And perhaps I crave the water. My spiritual director tells me that water has restorative energy. That could explain my lifelong love affair with the ocean and  my passion for kayaking which is sometimes thwarted by the limitations inflammatory arthritis has brought to my body. Fishing is a decided low-impact and meditative way to spend time on the water.

Shifting from "why" to "why not?" a couple of weeks ago, I bought my first fishing license in almost 30 years. After recovering from the shock of inflation--a freshwater license now costs almost 30 bucks!--Mark and I drove down to Williams Lake where my dad and Auntie-Ma live. It was time to see if this preoccupation with fishing had any substance.

On the second weekend of fishing season, we couldn't have asked for a more stunning day. My spiritual director was right: being out on the water was the balm my tired spirit I needed. We anchored and dropped in our lines, and it wasn't too long before my worm and corn sandwich yielded some nibbles. But I was a little too eager and kept pull it out of their mouths. Finally, I got the hang of it again and set the hook, pulling up my first catch--a lovely dappled rainbow trout.

Bait fishing is one of those activities that has some method to it--but much less method than we'd like to believe. As we sat there waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the next bite, twenty feet away a man pulled in fish after fish, limiting out at five so quickly that he only got to drink half his beer. His secret? A piece of worm and a marshmallow. But as any angler soon learns, what worked today may not work tomorrow, and twenty feet can make all the difference.

After another few hours of bait-fishing, then trolling, we took a dinner break. As twilight came on, I decided to throw a line in from the dock. Within 15 minutes I had catch #2. Soon Auntie-Ma joined me and she snagged the catch of the day.

This is the first time in almost 30 years that I've eaten something that I've caught and killed. And I have to admit it gave me a sense of self-sufficiency. More than that it felt honest. For the first time in a long time I didn't rely on someone else to do my dirty work by choosing meat or fish at the butcher counter or cleanly wrapped in cellophane. I came up from the docks with bloody hands. But they were honest hands.

Of course, the self-sufficiency part is a bit of an illusion. Williams Lake is heavily managed by the Fish & Wildlife Service. Each year they plant rainbow trout. Some winter over--like the three we caught--and some even survive to breed in the lake. But without continual re-planting, the population would peter out.

Before you blame the fisherfolk who ply its waters, consider that Williams Lake is among those many American waterways that have been devastated by invasive species. In the case of Williams Lake, it was tench. Brought to the U.S. by German immigrants who favored these carp, tench have repeatedly wiped out the rainbow trout population in the lake by devouring their eggs and hatchlings. In 2003, the Fish and Wildlife Service performed a massive "fish kill" flooding the lake with rotenone, a pesticide derived from jicama. So far, the kill appears to be successful. My dad hasn't heard of anyone catching tench since.

A happy beneficiary of this management strategy, I cleaned the fish and brought them home. The next night I pan-fried the smaller two and then used the larger one to make a nice trout chowder for a week of lunches (see the recipe link at the end of this post). Since I missed a Cinco de Mayo party after wearing myself out grouting tile in the new kitchen, I decided we'd celebrate Siete de Mayo by accompanying our catch with a lime and cumin dressed quinoa salad.

Would you like to try it? Here's what I did:

Pan-Fried Rainbow Trout

Cut off the heads and tails if your family is squeamish. Rinse and dry, then salt and pepper your trout inside and out. If desired, tuck some fresh herbs in the belly. Fry in olive oil and/or butter until they are crisp and brown. Flip and repeat. Your trout are done with the dorsal (back) fin pulls loose from the meat and the meat is opaque.

Siete de Mayo Quinoa Salad

2 c. water
1 c. quinoa
1 tsp. salt
2 ripe avocados, peeled and diced
2 tomatoes, diced
1 15 oz. can of black beans, rinsed
1 bunch of cilantro, leaves and fine stems chopped (I save the big stems for stock)
1 c. frozen corn kernels, thawed in hot water (I forgot the corn when I made it, but it would have been nice)

Dressing:
zest from 1 lime
juice from 2 limes
olive oil equal to the amount of lime juice
1 tsp or more cumin
salt and pepper to taste

Wash the quinoa in a strainer under running water, rubbing grains together to remove bitter saponins that coat the grains. Bring water and salt to a boil, add quinoa, and boil about 20 minutes until water is absorbed and quinoa has little "tails." Fluff with a fork and cool.

Add the remaining ingredients. Mix up the dressing and when you've got the seasonings to your liking, pour over the salad. Toss gently to combine.

Nifty links:

Here's a link to a video on The Perennial Plate that shows how to butterfly a trout in under 30 seconds. (It took me an hour and a half the first time I tried it.)

Also on The Perennial Plate, the recipe for trout chowder. Due to my milk allergy, I substituted light coconut milk for the cream, and I used smoked salmon instead of trout. Very tasty.