Fresh back from our walk out to the highway to see the herd of elk in the fields, we poured ourselves Ole Grandaddy whisky and cokes. The cast-iron skillets were put on the stove, oil poured in to heat up (not too high heat), and we mixed up a combination of cornmeal, flour, salt and pepper in a plastic bag (blow air into it to see it if has any leaks) for the rock fish. The fish was cut up earlier into thin strips, with the bellies put aside (as they are full of bones). The piles of fish were pink and whitish and slightly translucent, ready to be coated with the cornmeal mixture. When the breaded pieces were gently laid into the oil, it popped and sizzled eagerly, exciting the ears and later the nose with tender buttery whiffs of fried fish. The tortillas were heated and then dressed with salsa, onions, cilantro and more salsas before being topped off with crispy, barely golden pieces of fried fish and thinly sliced cabbage. Of course, there was as many methods of making tacos as there were people (which was 10), but we all agreed that they were delicious. For me, the taste of the salted fish—its mixture of ocean and fried cornmeal—filled my mouth, with the cilantro spiking in, a crunch of sweet onion there, and a gentle burn on the back and sides of my tongue, the steady creaminess of the corn tortillas—all was perfect.
