We ate fried perch early every Friday. I hated picking out the bones and more than once I had one catch in my throat. One so bad it took a couple of bread balls to shake it loose. No fun when you are a kid.
I’m not sure what kind of fish we ate as young kids. I do know I hated fish sticks. Had to eat them anyway. If you didn’t eat what was put in front of you, you went hungry. If you complained about how you didn’t like something, you got a smack AND had to eat all of it under threat of more severe punishment. There was no pussyfooting around that. Amazingly, I am not a picky eater, save for a very few things, which I still sometimes try, and still reject. (I don’t like bleu cheese or goat cheese. I keep trying them every so often, but I still haven’t taken a liking to either of those.)