As some of you know, I'm big on locally grown food. So big on it in fact that I do a large amount of growing my own right here on Rolling Thunder Ranch. Just a week ago, my family and a few friends gathered at the Old Barn, thanked the Universe, and harvested our third batch of broiler chickens. I'll spare you the graphic pictures and instead throw in this one of the kiddo, gathering up the next cockerel. Jolene a fantastic job helping and even cleaned out a few of the birds as well.
I sell some of the processed birds to neighbors and friend. They average healthy 3.5 pounds and I vacuum seal them for freezer roosting. One of my customers is an avid fisher-woman! Since I've been busy brooding chicks, she and I worked out a barter. In exchange for an extra chicken (I have a five chicken minimum) she'll catch me a trout! The other day, my phone rang with good news on the other end. I had a gorgeous lake trout, fresh caught out of 11 Mile Reservoir waiting for me. I made a beeline for the fish! I can not be absolutely certain that this is my fish in the picture but it was posted shortly after I returned home with fish in hand.
I had been craving fish tacos for awhile. I was very excited to satisfy my craving. Of course Shelly put a kink in that right away. I said, "fish tacos" and she made a face. Not a "whohoo! I'm so hungry and so excited" kind of face. She wanted me to batter it in cornmeal, throw it in an inch of oil and fry they heck out of it. Blech! I don't mind fried fish once in awhile and as long as someone else is frying them. It makes a mess and all I taste is oil. Shelly tried to talk me into frying her half and doing whatever I wanted to the part I intended to eat. This is Shelly's standard compromise; do whatever I want to my part but make her according to Shelly specifications. Shelly specifications require a vat of food with no flavor, no texture, and absolutely no onions. She has a problem with garlic too! It upsets her tummy. I'm Italian, no garlic means fits of pigheadedness, raging hormone fits and occasional fainting spells. I try to stand strong, to tell her, "Heck no, you want it fried, you fry it!" Instead I fried her half and made tacos with mine! Fish Tacos....according to Dawn.
1 lb. Trout fillets, rinsed, dried, and cut into strips
Corn or Flour Tortillas (I made corn)
Pico de Gallo with Mango (Mango, Jalapeno, cilantro, onion, lime, garlic and salt)
Cabbage (I prefer white)
Cilantro and Lime dressing (a bit of mayo, milk, garlic, cilantro, lime, tomatillo salsa)
Queso Fresco
I choose to grill my fish with a bit of butter and cook my tortilla in the oil for 1-2 minutes. Assemble and Monga! They might have tasted pretty good with beer battered fish too!
I'm sure Cod would have worked just fine too.
I hope everyone is having an outstanding summer.
4 comments:
Dude, this kicks ass. The recipe and the story. I wish I could move to the Rolling Thunder Ranch, learn how to grow my own food, and eat tasty meals with my friend and her beautiful family. :-)
The photos are fabulous. I love the shot of Jolene, and I can see you in her facial expression. Too cute!
By the way, we're getting ready to move into a house ... it's not on a ranch, but it is a ranch style house (ha ha!), and it's closer to that Whole Foods store that I still haven't gone into. I'll make a trip soon though, after we're settled.
Dude? Congrats on the casa! You better start filling it with more animals. My cousin swears you can potty train a goat!
Ha! Don't tell Trent that. I told him our animals need to start dying off before we acquire any more.
I guess it has been a long time since I have checked the blog. I like your descriptions of life on the ranch. Do you plan to write a book? You made me hungry for fish tacos. I have only had them once. I love fish but I do not care for fish from fast food chains. I can't stand the taste of grease either. You are a good sport to fry Shelly's fish.
I took part in butchering chickens when I was first married. I plucked the chickens. I had never done anything like that before. I got roped into it by my husband's grandmother. She was a good gal and I really liked her. When I realized what I had gotten myself into, it was too late to turn back. Grandma would not tolerate a slacker. So I hung in there. It made me appreciate what hard work it is to bring food to the table.
Thanks for sharing. Sorry it took me so long to respond. It has been a long, hot, strange summer.
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