When's the last time that you made a meal that you found, foraged,
farmed, caught or hunted? When's the last time that you made a meal that you found, foraged,
farmed, caught or hunted? From the morning to the evening, each member of our
class was fully immersed in the process of catching, cooking, and consuming
fish, from sea to table. For me, this was the first time I've ever consumed
meat where I had a hand in the process from the very beginning.
As we began the
day, I was a bit apprehensive. I wasn't the biggest fan of fish, but I remember
being pretty fond, and decent at catching them as a kid. But it'd been over ten
years since I'd properly handled a fishing rod, so I wasn't quite sure what to
expect. As our diesel-powered fishing boat made its way out into the water, I
began to wonder about the great fishing traditions of such a sea-faring area.
How long would it have taken a couple of fisherment to row a Naomhog all the
way out to the spot it had taken us a solid thirty to forty minutes to get to
on our boat, assuming that they didn't need to go even farther out from the
peninsula and into the open ocean to catch fish? For us, fishing was a relative
breeze, as we cast our
lines straight down into the murky, kelp-filled depths
of the sea. It took me a couple of tries to get the hang of casting on the
rods, but after a bit, I finally had a fish hooked on the line. Upon reeling it
in, however, there were two shiny, flopping Pollock hooked onto my line. I was
afraid that fishing would be boring, but I truly could not have asked for
better scenery as we were encapsulated in the dazzling turquoise blue of the
North Atlantic, the steely grey of the cliffs, lush bursts of lichen and other
vegetation clinging to the stone, soft green grass of the land above, and white
flashes of gulls and other seabirds overhead. Even the fish themselves were a
marvel to look at, an earthy greyish-green hue, some with flecks of copper in
their scales, and always seemingly staring into our souls with big, fishy eyes.
That part felt important, as we'd be frying them in a couple of hours. By the
end of the day, I had managed to reel in nine fish, a number far exceeding my
humble expectations of one or two.
Maybe I enjoyed fishing? Soon, one of the
fishermen began "processing" our catches (beheading and gutting the
fish) and we marveled at how a screeching mass of seagulls chased our boat from
the sky for the chum, all the way to the shore. Next up was a very educational
and very smelly fish dissection back at our classroom. This made us a bit more knowledgeable yet perhaps apprehensive for the next task up which was cooking
the fish at the Dingle Cookery School.
I am not the biggest fan of consuming
fish yet I looked forward to this lesson in cooking it properly. "This is
likely the freshest fish you will ever have!" said our chef, Mark. And it
was true. Usually, fresh fish can be up to 20 days old. At best, 2. But ours
was just hours old. In total, we had learned how to fillet the muscle from the
whole fish, fry it, and dress it. Despite my distaste for fish, it genuinely
was the best fish that I'd ever had. By the end of the day, I had a rekindled
fondness for fishing, and a newfound appreciation for sea to table dining,
where you had a part to play in the procurement, processing, and consuming of
your food for the entire process. A day like ours
is a rarity in our
increasingly processed world of food, where the goal seems to be that consumer
is as removed as possible from the process.
From the morning to the evening, each member of our
class was fully immersed in the process of catching, cooking, and consuming
fish, from sea to table. For me, this was the first time I've ever consumed
meat where I had a hand in the process from the very beginning.
As we began the
day, I was a bit apprehensive. I wasn't the biggest fan of fish, but I remember
being pretty fond, and decent at catching them as a kid. But it'd been over ten
years since I'd properly handled a fishing rod, so I wasn't quite sure what to
expect.
As our diesel-powered fishing boat made its way out into the water, I
began to wonder about the great fishing traditions of such a sea-faring area.
How long would it have taken a couple of fishermen to row a Naomhog all the
way out to the spot it had taken us a solid thirty to forty minutes to get to
on our boat, assuming that they didn't need to go even farther out from the
peninsula and into the open ocean to catch fish?
For us, fishing was a relative
breeze, as we cast our lines straight down into the murky, kelp-filled depths
of the sea. It took me a couple of tries to get the hang of casting on the
rods, but after a bit, I finally had a fish hooked on the line. Upon reeling it
in, however, there were two shiny, flopping Pollock hooked onto my line.
I was
afraid that fishing would be boring, but I truly could not have asked for
better scenery as we
were encapsulated in the dazzling turquoise blue of the
North Atlantic, the steely grey of the cliffs, lush bursts of lichen and other
vegetation clinging to the stone, soft green grass of the land above, and white
flashes of gulls and other seabirds overhead. Even the fish themselves were a
marvel to look at, an earthy greyish-green hue, some with flecks of copper in
their scales, and always seemingly staring into our souls with big, fishy eyes.
That part felt important, as we'd be frying them in a couple of hours. By the
end of the day, I had managed to reel in nine fish, a number far exceeding my
humble expectations of one or two. Maybe I enjoyed fishing?
Soon, one of the
fishermen began "proceessing" our catches (beheading and gutting the
fish) and we marveled at how a screeching mass of seagulls chased our boat from
the sky for the chum, all the way to the shore. Next up was a very educational
and very smelly fish dissection back at our classroom. This made us a bit more
knowledgable yet perhaps apprehensive for the next task up which was cooking
the fish at the Dingle Cookery School.
I am not the biggest fan of consuming
fish yet I looked forward to this lesson in cooking it properly. "This is
likely the freshest fish you will ever have!" said our chef, Mark. And it
was true. Usually, fresh fish can be up to 20 days old. At best, 2. But ours
was just hours old.
In total, we had learned how to fillet the muscle from the
whole fish, fry it, and dress it. Despite my distaste for fish, it genuinely
was the best fish that I'd ever had. By the end of the day, I had a rekindled
fondness for fishing, and a newfound appreciation for sea to table dining,
where you had a part to play in the procurement, processing, and consuming of
your food for the entire process.
A day like ours is a rarity in our
increasingly processed world of food, where the goal seems to be that consumer
is as removed as possible from the process.
Today we had quite the early
morning heading to the Dingle Sea Safari to go on a boat ride around the Dingle
Peninsula and see some of the surrounding islands. We started by taking a peek
inside some of the cliffside crevices where we saw many different types of
algae and jellyfish in the water 
s ominous to see all of the abandoned homes and think about
all the people who used to live there, but it was also really interesting.
Along the shore, we saw many seals peeking their heads out of the water and
looking at us as we drove by them. 
named
Inishnabro, as we were on our way there the boat driver heard over his radio
that there 
were dolphins so we turned around to go see them. We arrived at the
pod of dolphins and it was amazing to see, they were coming right along the
side of our boat so close that you could almost reach out and touch them. After
visiting with the dolphins we made our way to the other islands where we saw
tons of other cool animals such as Puffins and Red Deer. 
