Catfish

Our neighbor – may the giving hand never falter – stopped his truck out front this evening and hollered at my wife to send me over to his place to get some fish. He had a big Igloo just full of catfish he'd caught in the upper end of the bay. There's that much fresh water in the bay still. They were all of a size, maybe 16 inches, and perfect for the skillet. We had one apiece, dipped in cornmeal and fried crisp, along with cole slaw and a baked potato and a bottle of Argentine chardonnay, maybe not quite the right thing to drink – sweet tea or a bottle of beer would have been more appropriate – but wonderful, nonetheless. What a great place we live.