A land of meat-eaters

There’s no way a visit to one of our local towns is going to pass without lunch at our favourite cafe and a visit to the fishmonger.

Today I picked up a couple of fresh Mackerel. How fresh? I’m pretty sure these guys were pulled from the sea this very morning (with hook and line by the look of them). The fishmonger apologised for not having any recipe sheets left for mackerel: he keeps a cluster of well thumbed fish recipe books and photocopied pages atop his counter, and his last recommendation for a seasoned crumble to go with a fillet of Pollack was delicious.

We got into a conversation about the area, where we lived, and so on. He commented that locals do not buy much fish from him. That was a surprise. “They don’t buy much fish at all,” he went on, “they seem to be big meat eaters. Have you seen the butchers?” I indicated that I had. In fact, you cannot miss it.

Perched on a corner of the town square, it is, to even a non meat eater like myself, a spectacular affair. So much so I feel I should  return to eating meat just to patronise such a perfectly assembled array of fresh produce. It is impressive.

Our fishmonger, on the other hand, cannot match such grandeur, clearly keeping only as much stock as he is certain of selling each day. But his fish could only be fresher if he popped out with a rod and tackle to catch them to order.

The lack of interest in fish here puzzled him. He theorised that it rose from a history of everyone knowing a fisherman or two, and therefore having access to free, or at the lest very cheap, fresh fish. Perhaps the idea of paying money for fresh fish has been bred out of the general population. And perhaps younger generations have not learned an appreciation for just how good Cornwall’s sea fish really are.

So, even when I work out how to catch them for myself, we will make a point of a regular purchase at our local fishmonger.

---