Even though we are not particularly good Catholics--my husband and I have each been married previously, and we don't go to Mass very often mostly because the priest is one of the least Christian people I've ever met--we were both confirmed as Catholics, and Catholics churches feel most like home to us. This time of year is still special to us; we use Lent as a time to take stock, to look at our lives and find ways to work toward becoming better people, whether it's giving up a vice or developing healthier habits.
And as a formerly-good Catholic girl, I know all about fish on Fridays.
I can make tuna casserole with homemade white sauce and vegetables--or occasionally, canned cream of mushroom soup and breadcrumbs. Some Fridays might find boiled or baked fish on the table, prepared with a variety of different sauces.
And then there's the fish fry.
After my sister and I moved out, my parents became experts in all of the local fish fries They knew who served fried, baked, and broiled fish. They knew who had the best fries and cole slaw. They even became connoisseurs of tartar sauce, eventually deciding the pub by the railroad track had great fish, fries, and slaw, and THE BEST TARTAR SAUCE EVER. It was homemade--they asked, and couldn't wheedle the recipe out of the owners.
The first time my husband visited my hometown, they gave him the lowdown.
His family most often opted for the tuna-noodle-at-home route, so he was previously unaware of the multitude of options available for the fish fry. They shared an overwhelming about of fish fry information with him that visit, to the point where he was sure that was all they ever ate on Fridays.
Once my mom passed away, my father spent most major holidays with us including Easter, so he became acquainted with our parish's fish fry, with its homemade soups and desserts, and many entree selections. He looks forward to these meals every year, so our first fish fry date of the year is today.
He's already decided he's having the baked haddock. I'm sure we'll hear all about the pub's tartar sauce. He may decide he needs a piece of pie to take home.
In spite of our lack of annulments and regular attendance at Mass, I think the extra family time makes for a good Lenten resolution.
And as a formerly-good Catholic girl, I know all about fish on Fridays.
I can make tuna casserole with homemade white sauce and vegetables--or occasionally, canned cream of mushroom soup and breadcrumbs. Some Fridays might find boiled or baked fish on the table, prepared with a variety of different sauces.
And then there's the fish fry.
After my sister and I moved out, my parents became experts in all of the local fish fries They knew who served fried, baked, and broiled fish. They knew who had the best fries and cole slaw. They even became connoisseurs of tartar sauce, eventually deciding the pub by the railroad track had great fish, fries, and slaw, and THE BEST TARTAR SAUCE EVER. It was homemade--they asked, and couldn't wheedle the recipe out of the owners.
The first time my husband visited my hometown, they gave him the lowdown.
His family most often opted for the tuna-noodle-at-home route, so he was previously unaware of the multitude of options available for the fish fry. They shared an overwhelming about of fish fry information with him that visit, to the point where he was sure that was all they ever ate on Fridays.
Once my mom passed away, my father spent most major holidays with us including Easter, so he became acquainted with our parish's fish fry, with its homemade soups and desserts, and many entree selections. He looks forward to these meals every year, so our first fish fry date of the year is today.
He's already decided he's having the baked haddock. I'm sure we'll hear all about the pub's tartar sauce. He may decide he needs a piece of pie to take home.
In spite of our lack of annulments and regular attendance at Mass, I think the extra family time makes for a good Lenten resolution.