“In Chicago I got fried Italian smelts.”
Back when I was a young, handsome, single, and poor young buck I’d hit some of the bars in the Loop after work that offered hot food buffets if you bought 2 beers. I always looked forward to smelt season.
Crispy little fishy bits of goodness dredged in seasoned corn meal and fried to golden brown perfection. A work friend of mine was Italian. He told me once “if you think these are good you should come smelt fishing with me and my dad.”
Now I may not be smart, but I do learn. So the next Saturday I found myself near the Planetarium at about 2 in the morning sitting with him and his dad. A Coleman lantern, some kind of net, a propane burner, an ancient cast iron Dutch oven, and a baggie full of seasoned corn meal dredge were on hand.
He’d put the lantern out over the water, dip that net, and come up with a couple of dozen. He snipped off the head and gutted them with a pair of scissors so fast you’d think he’d been doing it since the day he was born. Hell, he probably had been.
He’d toss them in the baggie full of that dredge, shake them a few times, and then drop them in the hot fat. Then onto a pile of Chicago Tribune classified ads to drain for a minute.
He reached into a cooler and popped the top on some cold beers. Those went into paper lunch bags, of course. So there we sat for a couple of hours. Not much was said. Not much needed to be said.
I asked what was in the dredge that made them taste so damned good. The old man just looked at me and chuckled. My friend said “He’d tell you, but then he’d have to kill you.”
So I shut up and ate fried smelts, drank a couple of ice cold PBRs, and just enjoyed things.
My friend was killed in a car accident a month or so later. Drunk driver. What a damned waste. They idiot who did it got 6 months, out in 3. He met with an unfortunate fatal accident a couple of weeks after he got out. Never did catch the perp.
Anyway, I haven’t thought about that night in over 30 years. So I thank you most sincerely for stirring up a very pleasant memory.
Best,
L
Yup, good times.