My wife loves to travel and I refuse to get on an airplane. It is what it is. When the bride and her traveling pal Betty decide to hop on a jet and go see new places, Cindy will read several books about where she’s going. For example, before the ladies hit Thailand, Cindy read books about Jim Thompson who was a spy, a collector of Southeast Asian art, and an entrepreneur. He is responsible for reviving the silk industry in Thailand. This guy led quite a life, and disappeared without a trace on 26, March 1967. In addition to learning about Thompson we hit a Thai restaurant in our town and Cindy started learning about the food, language and Chang Mei. The waitstaff taught Cindy some Thai speak. This kind of immersion is how it goes with her—it’s how she’s been rolling since she got the travelling bug at age twenty. India, China, Machu Picchu, Amsterdam, Germany, Bruges, the UK, Italy, Slovenia, and a Pu Pu Platter of other places she’s visited have informed her about good food and how to make her husband really good stuff. She was on a heavy soup kick a few years ago, and for about a month I came home from the ferry docks where I work, and had a different concoction every night. Mexican, Italian, Chinese, German, and other hearty soups surprised me every February night. I’m a spoiled and very lucky guy because I simply do. Not. Cook. When the bride travels, I’m left to my own devices for hunting and foraging.
After returning from a trip to Martha’s Vineyard early last March we hit a local restaurant called George’s which is two hundred yards across from our place in Galilee Harbor, Rhode Island. The pandemic hadn’t hit a tipping point yet; however, things were going sideways. We sat next to the fireplace and had burgers. Shortly after I came back from the Vineyard we witnessed the devastation the virus was having on the local economy. Being seventy-year boomers, we played a strong defense over the summer. We scored a grill from a neighbor and I actually started burning steaks; the bride was gob smacked that I actually like flipping steaks and dousing the burned meat with A-1. We adapted throughout the summer, and when things loosened up a touch, we started hitting some local restaurants in town and embarked on eating out two nights a week; it was nice to get out of the house and see places with a semblance of normality. Moreover, Cindy likes to get rigged up in a getup for our dates. Now, with a vaccine coming down the pike we’re still playing a strong defense and go to the same local place we hit last year after my Vineyard trip last March. Moreover, we discovered a new and simple menu item to look forward to every week. Fish Tacos!
The first time I heard the words, Fish Taco, I was perplexed. My wife had some on Martha’s Vineyard one summer and raved about how good they were. (I’m basically a meat and potatoes guy and had never heard of such a thing. It sounded bizarre.) A month ago, on date night, we decided to try an order of them along with a Cesar Salad. We were hooked with these fish tacos. (I know, the intentional pun is corny; however, I’m allowed because I’m a geezer.) Here’s the simple Saturday night drill. We share a salad and one large order of Fish Tacos, extra Mexican rice and chipotle sauce. We have them straight up without any toppings (Cindy’s idea) so we enjoy the blackened fish. I think it’s cod, but I don’t care. We love these simple yet profound Fish Tacos. “Nuff said.
J.V. Houlihan, Jr. taught Theatre and Literature for thirty years at Narragansett High School in Rhode Island. Since 1974 he began working and is currently still working for the Block Island Ferry Company in Galilee. He is a freelance writer and columnist-The Ferry Dock Scribbler- for The Block Island Times. His work has been seen in AARP, Cruising World Magazine, Newport This Week and South County Life. He lives in Galilee, Rhode Island with his wife Cindy, and enjoys writing and sailing. To learn more see: Celtic Legend Books.