Notes from Barb: Fish Dinner, Anyone?

When a person goes out to dinner, it is usually not just to eat . . . or to get out of doing the dishes. We enjoy a bit of pampering, good service, right? We found a place in Charlevoix, Mich., an "in" place that served nothing but excellent fish dinners. It was located on the shore of Lake Charlevoix right in front of the fish dock. The fish served were whatever fish were caught that day. Once we were met at the hooked screen door with, "The fish boat is not unloaded yet. Come back later!" No "Please", no "Sorry", and no smile. We came back later . . . that was the way of their customers.

The place itself was an old Victorian house with none of the fancy trim we associate with houses of that era. It was the fisherman's former home. Guests came in off a side porch, took a left into the dining/living room. (A right led to the simple old-fashioned kitchen . . . a very ordinary "somebody's kitchen".) The floors were bare wood; tall, narrow windows had no curtains; walls were painted over wallpaper; and a simple fireplace mantel stood naked. However, a piece of fishnet was draped over nails on one wall. An arty touch? The whole house had a decided list to it.

No menu was offered. Patrons got what was served and that depended on what fish were caught that day. Occasionally one struck it lucky and could choose between lake trout and whitefish. You always got a choice of potato . . . and that ended your choices. Also you were served a vegetable, hush-puppies, and a cube of pineapple/carrot/lemon jello that had a distinctly different, delicious flavor. Once I asked what made that different taste. With a cold stare the waitress said, "We do not tell our cooking secrets!" (I had sinned by asking, that was clear.) All the food was the best ever . . . and they knew it.

Once a party of eight came it, sat down, and asked for menus. "We don't have menu. We serve fish dinners." "Fine. We'll have five fish dinners and three hamburgers and fries for the kids." (I flinched for them.) "We don't serve hamburgers here! If that's what you want, go to the hamburger stand." They left. I felt sorry for these unsuspecting souls who did not know the rules of the game.

We heard of this spot through friends as if we were being let in on a local secret . . . there was no advertising . . . just word of mouth. And since paying the check was no concern of mine, it wasn't until years later that I learned that prices there were compatible with the best restaurants in the area. Last time we were in that area, we found the entire house was gone! Probably it just leaned a bit too far one day.

Notes from Barb: The Evolution of Milk

Horse-drawn Milk Cart circa 1908

A couple of days ago while buying gas at a convenience store, I saw a truck unloading stacks and stacks of 2% milk cartons. I commented at how many people must be drinking that awful stuff so the proprietor told me that 90% of his sales were of the 2% milk. How tastes have changed in not too many years! As a child we got milk from a Hermantown dairy farmer who drove a small horse cart . . . his name was Mr. Krause . . . and we furnished the container for him to ladle the milk into. He had a dipper in the cart and when we brought out the pan, he poured the milk into it. (People did not think in terms of germs like they do now.) The milk was then set on the table for the cream to float to the top when it was scooped off for coffee cream. A piece of cheesecloth covered the pan to keep out flies or dirt. After it was skimmed, it was put into a pitcher for family use.

When we moved up on the hill, we could not get service from Mr. Krause so got a new milkman who delivered the milk in bottles . . . 4.5% butterfat! People wanted the "best" and that was rated by the butterfat content. Since the cream always rose to the top, it was just plain decency that demanded that the first to pour milk always shook the bottle so the cream was evenly distributed. Rotten little kids often sneaked off the cream for their cereal. But with three kids in our family, we all watched each other so the chance to cheat did not happen very often. In winter when the milk froze in the bottles, the cream rose up out of the top with the little paper cap sticking way up there. Often I took off the cap, licked the frozen cream a few times and replaced the cap! Real ice cream, that was! And extra good being ill-gotten gains.

Then came pasteurization which made the milk sanitary . . . and drove a lot of dairy farmers out of business as they could not afford the equipment. We had friends who had a farm in Hermantown where we were welcome for a week in the summer. After the milking, the milk was taken by horse cart to a corner cross-roads where the cans were put on a stand to sit in the sun until the Bridgeman-Russell Creamery truck came to pick it up. Needless to say, milk soured quickly . . . and every mother knew how to make cottage cheese at home. So we all also knew what "curds and whey" from the Little Miss Muffet poem was. And Miss Muffet didn't eat so well on her little tuffet if she had to eat that stuff.

Next came homogenized milk . . . which is easier to digest but alas, no cream floats at the top to be siphoned off for a treat. And now they no longer say "butter-fat" but just "fat" and since no one wants to be guilty of drinking FAT, it may seem OK to drink fatless milk! But take it from me, that drink tastes like water that has been tampered with! I gave up caffeine for my health and quit over-salting foods . . . but I draw the line at creamless milk. Taking the "fat" out leaves all this cream for making butter . . . but everyone eats margarine now, too, for their health . . . and the government stores the butter. Somehow it doesn't make sense when cream and butter tastes so good! What is this world coming to??? Health?