Post by epaul on Aug 3, 2024 12:03:45 GMT -5
There are little things I do that connect me with my dad, bring him back, put him in the room with me. Well, now, peeling cantaloupe is one of them.
My dad loved fishing for walleyes. And he took great pride in his ability to produce perfect fillets. It was more than a necessary job, it became an art, a joy. He studied the masters of the fish house, absorbed their secrets, and became a master himself. He treated his fillet knife with the care and sacred regard of a samurai handling a blade that was once held by the great Kato himself.
But, on my end, the fish house was a club I wanted no part of. I couldn't stand those screened huts with their buckets of fish heads, scales, and guts. I was good with the catching and the eating parts, but the necessary middle never took. And when dad was gone, so was fishing for walleyes. I now much prefer trolling for pizzas and cheeseburgers.
But, one day, while hacking away at a cantaloupe, I remembered my dad. I recalled him filleting walleyes, the pride and skill he brought to the task, the enjoyment. And inspiration struck. I went to Cabela's and bought a good fillet knife. Not Kato quality, but pretty good. And then I studied cantaloupe prep at the feet of the Youtube Masters of Cantaloupe.
And I practiced.
Not days upon days, but darn near for an hour.
And now, as I slide my fillet knife smoothly between the cantaloupe's meet of skin and flesh, I think of my dad proudly producing one perfect fillet after another. And I can feel him looking on at me with pride as I do the same with my cantaloupe.
My dad loved fishing for walleyes. And he took great pride in his ability to produce perfect fillets. It was more than a necessary job, it became an art, a joy. He studied the masters of the fish house, absorbed their secrets, and became a master himself. He treated his fillet knife with the care and sacred regard of a samurai handling a blade that was once held by the great Kato himself.
But, on my end, the fish house was a club I wanted no part of. I couldn't stand those screened huts with their buckets of fish heads, scales, and guts. I was good with the catching and the eating parts, but the necessary middle never took. And when dad was gone, so was fishing for walleyes. I now much prefer trolling for pizzas and cheeseburgers.
But, one day, while hacking away at a cantaloupe, I remembered my dad. I recalled him filleting walleyes, the pride and skill he brought to the task, the enjoyment. And inspiration struck. I went to Cabela's and bought a good fillet knife. Not Kato quality, but pretty good. And then I studied cantaloupe prep at the feet of the Youtube Masters of Cantaloupe.
And I practiced.
Not days upon days, but darn near for an hour.
And now, as I slide my fillet knife smoothly between the cantaloupe's meet of skin and flesh, I think of my dad proudly producing one perfect fillet after another. And I can feel him looking on at me with pride as I do the same with my cantaloupe.
