Grid, Shmid…We Can Do It All On Our Own

Thanks to Grandmother’s garden, we need never go hungry.  I have eaten more than my fill of salad greens and herbs and snap peas, though they have yet to convert me into a beet lover. (Yes, I know all about how delicious they are.  Now run along and enjoy them and leave me out of it.)  Despite reaping the rewards of a garden well-equipped to feed 976 vegetarians for twenty two years, we felt like we needed a little more.  Lucky for us Grandma’s sidekick was up to the task.

That’s a seven and a half pound fluke being hefted by Grandpa Mikey.  And yes, seven and a half pounds of fish is so big that it pushed all but Grandpa Mikey’s forearm from the frame.

There are a million ways to prepare fresh fish, but it really doesn’t get better than fried.  Here’s how we do it.  Even my kids beg for seconds, and they’re barely bigger than that fluke.

Fresh fish offers more than a great meal.  If you’ve got a retired surgeon on hand, you can use the carcass as a lovely stained glass window.

That’s Grandpa Mikey: world-class fillet master, and a talented boat builder to boot.  Last year he built an adorable little sailing dory for his grandchildren.  Dave took Kira and nephews MJ and Evan for a row around the bay sans mast.

This year Grandpa is trying his hand at kayak-building.  I may be biased, but I think he’s pretty darn good at it.

Grandpa also pulled some strings and entered the girls in a marine naturalist camp. They strolled the beaches, collected specimen, and learned all about life in, on and around the water.  If you have been wondering how to tell the difference between male and female fiddler crabs, Kira is your source (hint: she told me that the males have one big claw.)

All questions about hermit crabs or star fish should be directed to marine expert Acadia.

Fun fact of the day:  A baby oyster is called a spat.