Fishy Friday

When I was growing up Fridays during Lent meant meatless meals for my normally beef and potatoes family. Lent brought a marked change to our table. There were two staple menus I could count on to see us through from Ash Wednesday through Good Friday – creamed tuna on toast and salmon croquettes. If Mother dug the electric skillet out from under the kitchen cabinet, it was creamed tuna. If she began peeling potatoes I knew we were having fried salmon patties with fried potatoes (we called them Pa Paw potatoes because they were my grandfather’s favorite). Which meal did I prefer? Neither. As a child I didn’t particularly care for the taste of fish – any fish, especially fish that came in a can. As a teen I was embarrassed by the lingering odor of fish on Friday nights. None of my friends’ families ate fish on Friday. Being Catholic was an oddity among my high school crowd and I didn’t want to explain the Lenten rituals or the fishy smell when I was picked up for dates.

I acquired a taste for seafood as an adult when I discovered there was fish that didn’t come in a can. I love seafood now – fresh wild salmon, sea bass, orange roughy and all the mercury-laden swimmers I’m only supposed to eat in moderation. And shellfish, I could eat my weight in shrimp, lobster, crab and scallops (I’ll pass on the oysters).

But there is something about the Friday night fare of my youth that I crave. I guess it is Catholic Comfort Food. Or, it could be the memories I associate with dinners of creamed tuna on toast or salmon croquettes; memories of my mother in the kitchen preparing a simple, wholesome meal, memories of the six of us sitting down together at the kitchen table, memories of the conversation and laughter as we loitered over our plates, and memories of the love and kindness and warmth that was always present in my home.

Today is the first Friday of Lent. I am going to get out my electric skillet and make creamed tuna on toast for supper – and no apologies for the fish odor.