Fish Dinner for days.

On Wednesday afternoon Alicia and I happened past the fisherman’s quay in Gros Islet, along the channel into Rodney Bay Marina. We were coming out as one of the narrow seagoing 25’ open boats with a high bow came into the dock. As we putted past, we noted large dorado (mahi mahi or dolphin fish) being offloaded by the three yellow slickered fishermen. We circled large and came back into the dock with fish dinner on our minds.

“Could we have a cut off the tail please?
“No way, whole fish only, come back tomorrow at two.”

Two the next afternoon found me alongside the dock, oil containers cast willy nilly next to nets thrown up on the quay. Lots of teeth sucking going on and no fish to be seen. One fine fellow deigned to talk with me.

“Four o’clock“ he suggested.

Back at four and more of the same. The fellow I had befriended earlier said

“You again?”

No fish to be had. A Rasta in a long boat painted in the Rasta way came alongside. We recognized each other from an encounter earlier in the day, he offering taxi rides and other services. He thought the dorado guys would be in at five. So on I waited, determined not the disappoint by returning to Django empty handed again. At the advertised hour, in came the seagoing long open boat, 75 HP Enduro on the stern, yesterday’s three yellow slickered fishermen aboard. I pushed off over to their landing and asked the skipper if he had caught any dorado and would he cut me a piece.

“Yuh“, he said.

Twenty minutes of putting away the boat, the fish come ashore, four 40 lb females with roe intact.

“You want a fish?” the crew asks.

“No just a piece off the tail, about this much.”

Great show of disappointment ..“This much?” he says indicating about 20 lbs. of fish,

“No, this much.” I say, indicating about two lbs. of fish.

Finally he gets out a machete and hunts for a honing stone to sharpen it up. None in sight, although all the likely spots are rifled. He strikes the dorado a great blow, almost severing the tail section from the body. Another thwack from the opposite side frees my fish dinner. It is a full 23 inches long after the tail has been trimmed away.

“How much?”

$10 EC a pound”

I have the fish in a bag and it feels like a good five pounds.

”Where’s the scale?” yells the short beefy crew. Lots of rummaging about again, no scale, finally a big spring scale appears and my fish is placed upon it. It barely registers. This scale must go up to 100 lbs.

“5 lbs?” I ask

“No three, but just a moment.” consultation with number two crew, who scratches his head.

I offer $40 EC to end the discussion. Done deal and I am off to Django with dinner in the bag.
Aboard Django, I use hammer and largest available knife to cut the piece in two, one for tonight’s barby and another for tomorrow.

The fish is a delight, done just enough to keep the bone raw and the flesh close to it still kicking. The rest, more than enough for A and I is tender, flaking and full of oil. Omega 3 up the yin yang.

Fish dinner day 2 is the back half of the beast barbied again, just as delicious as the night before.

Fish dinner day 3 is the broth of the bones, to which I added yams, onions, carrots, chrystofine, sweet potato and okra. Alicia is delirious. She has made a banana custard which is more like banana scrambled eggs, but there you are.

Lunch day 4 will be an aspic from the remains of the stew, along with cold dorado, mayonaise and a salad. The stew will set to a solid jelly and be turned out onto a plate to wriggle with the swell.

So the fish dinner has done us well.

The repaired netting came aboard this afternoon and after a good deal of discussion and near mutinous refusal to do it my way, it has been installed (mostly).

Haiku for tomorrow:

Atop the raised chair,
Sag removed, better than ever,
We’re off to Martinique.