It’s not exactly hard to find a plate of fried fish in this town on any given day. But consider the Friday fish fry, and how it gives a humble dish structure and a new meaning, how it changes from something we eat, to something we do.
In Louisiana we have the food seasons that nature gives us, the harvests so prodigious that clearly the only logical response is a feast, a fest or at least a party.
Then there are the food seasons that we make ourselves, through tradition and custom that becomes ritual.
We are reaching the peak of one of those culture-made food seasons right now with the fish fry, landing at the intersection of Lent, the local skill with fried seafood and the tendency of good times to coalesce wherever New Orleans people gather around food.
It could simply be the lunch order for the office where someone hauls back a teetering tower of food cartons and the whole group takes that lunch break together, because it’s fish fry Friday. Or it could be the outing to the neighborhood church, the one you attend or the one you just always drive past. On fish fry Friday, everyone is together.
It is a tradition maintained by small communities, and the conviviality that people put into them.
It’s the people at the fryers, the ones with sandy golden fish fry up to their wrists, the ones taking orders at the folding tables and even the ones who just show up to eat, with their kids freshly sprung from school or with their friends all rendezvousing to kick off the weekend. The character of the fish fry is in both the preparation and the partaking.
A plate of fried fish is not going to feel like much of a penance, not here and not with some talented Louisiana hands at the fryer. But with the tradition and the people and the community they create together, this time of year that plate of fried fish definitely has power. And with any luck, yours will come with some good potato salad too.
