Catfish Suprise

As always this has not been proofed for errors.

My dad loved eating fish, any type fish would suffice but he was especially fond of catfish. My dad and mom would make weekly pilgrimages to some obscure restaurant for catfish. The holy of holy catfish spot was in West Union Illinois, Earls Supper Club!   

Me, I do not like fish. How do you know that fish is bad? It smells like fish. To me even if it is fresh it still smells like fish. Fish sticks, fish nuggets, fish plakes, fish tacos, fish anything;  no, nope, no way, not going to do it. Fish coated in batter then deep fried till the fish smell/flavor is gone and smothered with tartar sauce, maybe! If I have to clean the fish then definitely it is a great big NO!

One week my mom purchase a package of frozen catfish from the Swan Man. Everyone in this area is familiar with Swan Ice Cream and the Swan man. The Swan Man will stop buy your house once a week selling sweet treats and an entire smorgasbord of frozen foods. Anyway, my mother decided to purchase a  box of catfish. This recipe was for a catfish casserole. Yes, I said a catfish casserole. My mother decided that she would make a catfish casserole for us.

The big night arrives. My mother follows the recipe to the letter, every ingredient added and then baked for the required time. My dad and I sit down at our respective places at the dining room table. Now, my mom was always the last one to sit down, last one to start eating and last one to leave the table. Pop, was always the first to get his food, he inhaled everything he ate and could be back in his lazy boy before my mom could even get the first bite of food down.  

Pop serves himself a heaping portion of the culinary treat called catfish casserole. I take a small portion figuring I will make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich once mother settles on the couch to watch TV with pop. Pop is pretty excited, after all it is catfish…and he thinks catfish in any form is better than no catfish at all. Pop takes his the first bite then I take a bite. I don’t know what catfish casserole should taste like but I’m assuming it is supposed to be good. I look up at pop and he is staring at me, it is a stare of horror.  

Remember, mother is last one to sit and last one to get up. Neither pop nor I would dare take another bite. We waited patiently for mother to sit down, dish up some catfish casserole and take a bite. The moment arrives, she takes her first and only bite as pop and I watch her intently. She chews, then swallows and says nothing. For a second I thought she was going to take another bite but then she looks and my dad and says: “I will make us all some sandwiches.”

We never had catfish casserole again.