As kids, dad used to take us trout fishing in a National Forest. The mountain streams were stocked with trout & fishing ‘season’ for those waters came in at 12:00 noon. We had to get up very early, make the 2 hour trip then wind our way up gravel roads until we found a spot dad liked. We were staked out on various pools along the stream, rods & bait in hand, to wait for noon. Other fishermen, looking for their own pool, would see we had dibs on our pools & move on. We could see trout in the pools & the wait until we could actually start fishing seemed interminable. These fish were not easy to catch - sometimes we caught our creel limit (6 fish) & sometimes we caught one or two (each). It was usually pretty cold, too - early April & if we were lucky, it wasn’t raining.
So the best trout I ever ate was one of these trout. It was a rainy, cold fishing day. We caught enough fish that we were anxious to leave, being cold & wet. While we were warming up with hot showers & dry clothes, dad got the trout cleaned & on the grill, wrapped in foil, with butter. Mom made mashed potatoes & slaw. Best.trout.ever! Fresh caught within hours & grill/butter, plus the experience of catching them all made for some very tasty eating. The majority of the trout were Rainbow with an occasional Brown trout in the mix.
You didn’t have to help clean the fish? LUCKY! We never escaped that chore with Grandpa. ‘You catch ‘em, you clean em!’
Of course, he’d soon take over because we weren’t ‘doing it right!’ LOL!