Fish n’ chips

Last night:

Just found out there is a little shop in the bottom of our building that makes take out food, so I’m eating some delicious fries right now that cost me about eighty cents. When I say delicious I mean really really delicious. Sometimes I think it’s cheaper to eat out than cook for yourself. Apparently the ladies husband makes Jamaican food, fried fish, rice, and fries. Sounds pretty good!

Tonight:

I headed downstairs to pick up my fish and chips that I had ordered half an hour earlier. She wasn’t quite ready, so I stood and waited for a few minutes and talked with her. When she was dumping the fries into some tin foil I came and looked to see what the fish looked – OH MY GOD! My reaction wasn’t quite that severe, but I was a little surprised to see the fish with its head, porky pine fins, and tail, all still fully intact. I paid her the 27 birr and headed back upstairs with my catch. I opened it, and just stared for a bit before I grabbed my camera for a photo-op, Kodak moment. Stalling a bit more I called Jasmin and told her to come over and see my dinner, Kyle was sleeping. A few seconds later she knocked at the door and I let her in. She was more than pretty disgusted; she doesn’t like fish in the first place.

“I’m making Persian food, it’ll be ready in about 30 minutes if you want” she told me.

But I knew, I knew that had to eat it. If I hadn’t eaten it I don’t think I wouldn’t be writing home to embarrass myself.

With knife and fork, I parted the scaly fried skin and dug into the carcass. Underneath was healthy looking white meat. The fried eye was a little grotesque, and the spiky fins were a little creepy, but the meat was pretty good. The fish hadn’t been gutted; pretty sure I was the first person to touch it with a knife. Nope, this fish had come straight out of the lake, or off a Somalian pirate ship, into the fryer, and onto my plate. There was certainly no doubt as to whether this was ‘real’ fish or not.

I can now say that after all my years of sailing and living on the coast, all my years of eating fish and chips, the most authentic fish and chips I have ever had were definitely in a landlocked African country, and only cost me $2.25.

I don’t think this quite comes on par with your eyeball soup story Dad, but I’m coming closer.

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