Catching Dinner

After having one fishing trip canceled out from under me because city inspectors hadn't got around to looking over the boat (a likely story: they probably just didn't have enough people to make a trip worth the fuel),  yesterday afternoon I finally made it to sea in search of dinner. The 4 p.m. sailing from Solvaer's town square pier started under sunny skies. Indeed, the first 20 minutes of the eastward cruise were sunny and warm, though we could see rainclouds ahead.

Sure enough, by the time we reached our first fishing spot the rains had started. Everyone dressed in raingear, either the one-piece outfits with hoods supplied by the boat, or their own. My rainpants and jacket kept me pretty dry, and because the temperature was moderate even at sea I had no need for a newly-purchased "duck hunting" wool sweater.

I no sooner got my line to the bottom and a few feet up when I felt a tug. I steadily reeled in the line and brought my catch to the surface, the first landed on the boat that afternoon and what turned out, I'm pretty sure, one of if not the largest. Had we had a pool, I would have won twice! For someone who hadn't been ocean fishing in about 45 years I was as pleased as could be. Beginners luck, I told a fellow fisherman from Oslo.

He told me I had caught what I heard him say was a "Helle", but after going to the web I think I misheard him pronounce, "Hyse", which is haddock in Norwegian. That's certainly what I landed looked like: a nice, fat haddock. (It might have been a pollock or a saithe, a.k.a. coalfish, but the Norwegian words for these fish aren't even close in pronunciation to what my new fishing buddy said; in any event, they are also closely related to the revered cod, with similar though not identical tastes and textures.) Although we had no scale, the mate thought it weighed about two kilograms: at 2.2 pounds to the kilo, that's a nicely sized fish.

No one else seemed to be catching much at our first spot, so the captain told us to reel in the rods so we could try another hole. About 10 minutes later, just east of the island community of Skrova, about six or seven miles south-southeast of Svolvaer, I again dropped my line into the green-gray water. Once again, I landed a hyse as quickly, this one almost as big as the first. A few others were hauled in by others on board, as well as some small cusks. But the dozen sea anglers aboard caught less than a dozen fish, so I got more than my share.

The mate headed and gutted the fish, feeding the entrails (and some bread) to the gulls following us back to Svolvaer. Once back at our rorbu I trimmed the tail and fins so it would fit in the only ovenware available. Now I had to figure out the best way to cook it. Haddock provides reasonably firm texture, with nice big flakes. It can stand up to strong sauces and seasonings despite its mild flavor. My larder, however, is pretty limited. Half an onion was available, along with salt, pepper, and plenty of the individual servings of butter I had been absconding with from the breakfast buffet every day since arrival. That would have to do.

So I set the oven on 200 C (nearly 400 F) to pre-heat while I prepped the fish. The bottom of the oval baking dish got a coat of butter. More butter was placed under, inside and on top of the fish. Here's what it looked like before I remembered to add the sliced onions:

Of course, what Norwegian meal would be complete without potatoes. At the Mega Coop that morning I obtained three medium-sized new potatoes. They looked much like Yukon Golds and their color, once cooked, a nice yellow. Here's my cooked meal:

As you can see from the photo at right, I was a happy man. The fish, on the table three hours after I had hauled it out of the Lofoten sea, was as sweet as could be. The potatoes, oddly but very pleasantly, were also sweet-tasting. And both went well with plenty of butter, salt and pepper.