The kind neighbor across the road blessed us not long ago with a gallon freezer bag full of filleted catfish. He suggested I semi-thaw it and package it in smaller portions, but I hesitate to re-freeze any meat, especially fish. I decided to invite my daughter's family over; there were six of them coming, and two of us. That bag of catfish looked like a lot more than eight people would be able to eat. My daughter likes to take pictures of her food and post them to Facebook.
Frying all that catfish kept two skillets occupied for a half-hour.
This is my daughter's plate: slaw made from our last head of garden cabbage, scalloped potatoes, green beans (store-bought and doctored up, I didn't have enough from the garden), corn bread, and catfish. Folks, if you've never tried Louisiana Fish Fry, you simply must! We like the New Orleans style; it's spicy, the way we like our fish. If you want it really spicy, dip the fish in buttermilk first; this gives a thicker, crispy coating that almost makes you want to slap your grandma. Oh, and we did manage to eat most of the catfish.
Pardon that expression, I think I picked it up from Cliff.
Grandson Brett had to put brakes on his car; Kevin helped.
The great-granddaughter finally got past her fear of tractors and got the feel of this one.
And she looked good doing it.
Here she is pointing out something to her dad, who is celebrating his birthday today.
So, all in all it was a good family day. I can sure tell I'm getting older, though; cooking a big meal absolutely wears me out for the rest of the day!
By the way, my Canadian secret admirer is back, reading every entry I've ever done on this blog. Hello, Canadian reader: If you ever make it to current entries, let me know what led you here and why you find my every word so interesting. As I write this, you're still back in 2007.
Granddaughter Lyndsay being given a ride by her cousin, Brett. There's a little-girl face in there someplace.
