Old Joe Grady's Fish Chowder
Old Joe Grady is famous for the fish chowder he concocts from time to time, usually while canoeing the boundary waters of Canada. When he is working at a job, he is more of a meat and pinto beans kind of guy. That's fortification food, according to Old Joe, food you can stab your fork into or shovel into your mouth. You can't stab or shovel fish, not without tearing it up or getting a mouthful of bones.
Fish is food for leisure, food for sitting back and picking through one's mind. And the best tasting fish has to be very fresh, which means you probably have to catch it yourself. So if you're going to fix some of Old Joe's chowder, you need to be in the backwoods somewhere, near a stream or a lake, and in no particular hurry.
The first step is to slip a bottle of good Chardonnay out of your pack and sink it about a foot deep in the lake. Then build a fire big enough to hold a nice blaze. Get your frying pan hot, and sautee one onion, a handful of mushrooms, and about half a good size green pepper. Be sure to brown the chopped onion before putting in the mushrooms and pepper. And use no more than a teaspoon of oil. Cook and stir until the aroma drifting through the forest has gotten everyone's attention. Then remove the frying pan from the fire and replace with a medium size pot 1/2 to 2/3rds full of water. Toss in whatever fish you have, up to three or four. If they're trout, you don't even have to bone them first. You should now also add your seasoning--your garlic, salt, and pepper.
Once the water starts boiling, walk down to the lake, take off your clothes, and plunge in. You won't stay long if the lake water is the right temperature for the Chardonnay. By the time you get dried off, reclothed, and back to the fire, the fish will be done. If it has not been boned, you should take out the fish, and the meat can easily be removed. Now, reduce heat to simmer and add any vegetables you have. Simmer for as long as it takes everybody to come over with their eating utensils. Then add some powdered milk and powdered potatoes, along with the sauteed onion, mushrooms, and green pepper. If you have real potatoes, put them in at the beginning along with the fish. Stir well, and it's finished.
As in most things, timing is more important than the measurements, or even the ingredients. In fact, I've never seen Old Joe measure anything. And I've seen him make a pretty good chowder when we hadn't caught a single fish to put in. But Old Joe never skimps on the timing. That's how what's supposed to be lumpy ends up lumpy, and what's supposed to be hot warms the mouth, and what's supposed to recede to the background doesn't upstage the main stuff. And be forewarned about skipping the cold swim. I've seen a lot of folks cheat on that or try to substitute a damp washcloth. Without fail, it throws the timing off, body timing, the preparation of a tired, bug eaten, briar scratched exterior for nourishment inside.
Of course, everything well timed has a crowning touch. After folks have savored a few spoonsful of the chowder, what with a purple sunset and maybe a stray loon calling in the distance, that's when Old Joe complements his entree by fishing the Chardonney out of the lake. Later, when the evening finally winds down and people start rolling out their sleeping bags, Old Joe finds a pine tree, presses a tired back into the ridges of the bark, and discovers a thought or two he would never have had under any other circumstance.