Flying frying fish, Dec 4.

A Fish Tries to Fry Itself, Too Late For the Main Course Dec. 4

The dinner dishes are done. One well-scrubbed medium stainless steel frying pan lies on the clean counter. Lee, our captain, and Sebastian, our crew from Sweden, are in the cockpit emptying the dishwater bucket and pondering over what they should have for dessert. As I move toward the pan to stow it into a cabinet in the galley, a large flying/frying fish comes in through the small hatch and lands in the pan, bug-eyed and flapping like any fish in the same situation.

Lee and Sebastian want to fry it up immediately. Just as it is. A little olive oil, a little salt and pepper, and a squeeze of lemon. I want to spare it’s life, feeling compassion for this strange, quirky Suicide Bomber Fish. The men finally give in and Sebastian carries it, flapping madly, in the pan to the rear of the boat where he will toss it overboard. At this point, the fish heaves itself deep into the line bin obviously thinking this is a better end than a frying pan, plainly not understanding that it’s life is about to be spared. At last the fish is found, still alive, still flailing about, and Sebastian returns it to the deep navy blue sea.

Wendy King Fredell, first mate, World Wide Traveler