Ice Fishing: Finger Food

“I’m going ice fishing,” said Bert, to his new wife, Anna.

The December day had dawned bright and clear. It was cold enough, for the lake to have formed a thick layer of ice.  

“I love ice fishing!” she replied. “May I come too, please?"

“Sure, why not? I’d love to take my new, bride ice fishing,” replied Bert. “That’s why I bought that fishing rod. We can try out our skidoo suits. Bet I catch more fish than you!”

Anna laughed. “We’ll see about that!”

“We’re going ice fishing, up at Eagle Lake,” Bert announced to his mother, who had given them the outfits for Christmas. “It’s ten miles up the canyon.”

“Bert said I can go!”

Bert's mother marveled at her new daughter-in-law’s enthusiasm.

“Then we’ll have a good, old-fashioned fish fry,” said Anna.

“I’ll clean and fry them, too!” Bert promised.  

Bert and Anna returned several hours later, with their full limit of perch, pickerel and trout.

“Mom, look at all the fish!” Anna hollered excitedly, as they walked through the door.

“The fishing was fantastic!” said Bert. "What a day!"

True to his word, Bert filleted all of the fish. 

“Mom, go and watch a movie. We’ll bring you some fried fish, shortly."

“Bert, this is how my dad and I used to fry fish,” Anna whispered in Bert’s ear. “Think your mother would like finger food?”   

“Perfect,” replied Bert. “Now, I know why I married you!”

“Want home-made French fries too?”

Bert’s mother was amazed at the tantalizing taste of the Cajun fresh-fried fish.

“That perch was absolutely delicious,” she told Anna, later. “Thank you, dear.”  

“That’s my Dad’s secret recipe,” said Anna, with a smile. “Now, you are my family. I can share his recipe with you.”

“I filleted the fish,” boasted Bert, who wanted some of the credit, too.

“I caught more,” said Anna, with a grin.

“You two are the best!”