You are never too old to learn. I thought I knew everything about smoking fish until a tiny girl with big blue eyes and soft curls in her auburn hair spit out a mouthful of mushed-up salmon in my hand. It was family day at a regional sportsman show.
Parents holding infants in their arms, pushing strollers, and with small children in hand wandered by the outdoor writer’s booth I fronted. Loudspeaker blare interrupted the hubbub of good cheer to announce the next special event. The odor of hot popcorn lingered in the air. Only six more hours to go, I told myself.
A couple with two young girls, ages 3 and 5, paused to peer at a 2-gallon jar that held a foot-long white sturgeon floating in formaldehyde solution. I often display fish specimens when I attend trade shows, hoping their presence will lead to gainful conversation with the curious.
“Is it alive?” the older girl asked, pointing to the sturgeon.
“It is preserved. Just like a pickle.” I replied.
She was not impressed by my sleight of word.
“What are those baby fish?” she said, pointing to a smaller jar.
“I’ll give you a hint," I replied. "They have three spines or stickles on their back."
“Stickly fish?" she said.
“Close. They are 'threespine stickleback,'" I told her.
The exchange led to a satisfied smile from her.
Hoping to gain equal attention, the 3-year old moved forward and blurted out, “I don’t like fish.”
“She doesn’t even like to eat fish,” older sister explained.
“Not even a tuna fish sandwich?” I asked.
“Nope,” the youngster replied with an impish smile, before she retreated to the shelter of her dad’s legs.
“Ah, the family rebel,” I said.
The 5-year old moved back to center stage.
“I like fish. Also shrimp, lobster, and oysters,” she said.
That's when I pointed to a small plate of smoked Chinook salmon set out for people to try. A compliment generally follows each taste.
"Ever eaten smoked salmon?” I asked.
The little girl rested her chin on the tabletop and stared at the plate of fish as if it were exotic fare.
“Would you like to try a bite?” I said, spearing a small piece with a toothpick.
When I held the toothpick out, she moved close and opened her mouth like a baby robin. I sensed her trust in me had been breached, however, when after no more than two chews, she muttered, “Uh-uh, bone,” and spit the chewed up meat into my outstretched hand.
“I hope the experience won’t scar her for life," I said to her embarrassed parents as the family retreated into a milling crowd.
For me, the best time to smoke fish is when fall Chinook salmon are on the spawn, sandhill cranes chortle their way south, and the lawn mower has been put to rest. I favor my Little Chief smoker for a light smoke. The process requires up to two bags of wood chips and six or more hours of tending for a load of fish, depending on outside air temperature. The electric smoker has designated use for small-bodied fish that include kokanee, whitefish and trout.
Kept at our family cabin is a water-cooled, charcoal-based cooker/smoker for processing larger swatches of fish meat, for example, a limit of salmon. A rich, sugary glaze is imparted in three to four hours. An automatic-feed wood pellet grill, such as a Traeger, with built-in temperature control will make your life easier, but expect to spend $600 or more.
Brining is a personal preference that involves careful experimentation. One wet brine recipe involves soaking a pound of fish overnight in a one-gallon solution to which a half cup kosher salt and a half cup brown sugar has been added. Some recipes call for more sugar and salt (but usually the same ratio). Adding soy sauce to the solution will impart an “umami” taste.
My favorite dry brine recipe involves a 4-to-1 ratio of brown sugar to salt spread evenly over swatches of fish. I layer swatches in a Tupperware container, refrigerate and let the mixture soak and ooze overnight. Excess ooze is removed with a paper towel before I rack the brined meat in my smoker. A quick “dry” recipe involves coating filets with paprika and ground black pepper before smoking.
I once put out plates of smoked sucker and smoked mountain whitefish, and asked friends what they liked best. Most pointed to the plate of sucker I labeled “whitefish” and remarked, “I like the whitefish best.” Only then did I admit I had switched labels to confuse their culinary preference. This experience and others suggest that abundant libation around holiday time encourages folks to eat most anything placed on a festive plate.
I now carefully remove visible bones before I offer smoked fish for public consumption. Family members who expect me to supply smoked fish for holiday gatherings are welcome to pick out stray bones for themselves. But, as I have learned the hard way, little girls are more discriminating.
The Link LonkNovember 07, 2020 at 10:00PM
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The natural world | Watch out for fish bones - East Oregonian
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