I love food.
I love transitioning animals into food too, because the subsequent celebration and sharing has always been the way humans worked.
Anyone that drives me to the airport knows they will be paid in fishy currency, and I’ll even cook it for them if need be. Money is so impersonal; a salmon, halibut or even a chunk of ling cod personally clubbed reaches beyond simple stomach satisfaction.
It comes with the spice of tradition hearkening back to the days of braining dinner and dragging it back to the cave, then celebrating the success with friends and family.
In our much more civilized (at times) culture, middle men have been introduced. People grow the beef kill the beef, slice the beef, deliver the beef, cook the beef and serve the beef so more energy can be saved by the consumer for fellowship and interpretive dancing after the feast.
During our first fall as Alaskans, my family assembled along with much of the rest of the town for a potluck. It was a fish buffet-barbeque fish, smoked fish, broiled fish, fish and sea asparagus, fish head soup, fish, fish, fish.
Oh, and seaweed picked and dried on roof tops until the event. Mom settled on a tapioca salad to ease her way into Alaskan cuisine only it wasn’t tapioca; herring (fish) eggs. Oops.
Once we adjusted, the frequent potlucks to support families the school or sports became pretty fun though there was no dancing, just a lot of eating, talking and more stories than the Sears Tower.
When you think about the idea behind thematic “feeds,” $40 isn’t too bad considering the meat was raised, hacked, chopped, shaved, seasoned, cooked, cut and served for you.
The process, when pondered, can sound a little disturbing, akin to forgetting you ate asparagus the night before. Soon you remember it’s just a part of the way things are.
As for crab eating contests the road to your double-thick Dixie plate quite possibly began with a former classmate or girlfriend of mine plucking the crustacean from the sea, weighing, packing, shipping, and delivering it, all for a mere $40, even with the price of gas so expensive.
How can you say no to that, especially when you can feed yourself and the athletic budget at the same time? You can even win yourself anything from Man-cations to manicures in the raffles.
Afterward of course comes the dance-floor frolicking which has come a long way, well, maybe not. I’m not sure what our ancestors would think about dancing to music that tells stories about losing keys, cell phones and not being able to see straight.
One might have been sent to the public stocks if they partook in the madness that qualifies as dancing today, or be left to eat saber-toothed tiger all by themselves after the next hunt. But never mind that.
The causes of the spring season of socials are good, so contact your local high school, or booster member about tickets to upcoming crab, rib, tri-tip, steak feeds or support them all.
Kids benefit, so really that’s reason enough to indulge in all you can eat surf, turf and of course a little gyrating around a bonfire, minus the bonfire, and herring eggs disguised as tapioca.
To contact Jeff Lund, e-mail aklund21@gmail.com.
I love transitioning animals into food too, because the subsequent celebration and sharing has always been the way humans worked.
Anyone that drives me to the airport knows they will be paid in fishy currency, and I’ll even cook it for them if need be. Money is so impersonal; a salmon, halibut or even a chunk of ling cod personally clubbed reaches beyond simple stomach satisfaction.
It comes with the spice of tradition hearkening back to the days of braining dinner and dragging it back to the cave, then celebrating the success with friends and family.
In our much more civilized (at times) culture, middle men have been introduced. People grow the beef kill the beef, slice the beef, deliver the beef, cook the beef and serve the beef so more energy can be saved by the consumer for fellowship and interpretive dancing after the feast.
During our first fall as Alaskans, my family assembled along with much of the rest of the town for a potluck. It was a fish buffet-barbeque fish, smoked fish, broiled fish, fish and sea asparagus, fish head soup, fish, fish, fish.
Oh, and seaweed picked and dried on roof tops until the event. Mom settled on a tapioca salad to ease her way into Alaskan cuisine only it wasn’t tapioca; herring (fish) eggs. Oops.
Once we adjusted, the frequent potlucks to support families the school or sports became pretty fun though there was no dancing, just a lot of eating, talking and more stories than the Sears Tower.
When you think about the idea behind thematic “feeds,” $40 isn’t too bad considering the meat was raised, hacked, chopped, shaved, seasoned, cooked, cut and served for you.
The process, when pondered, can sound a little disturbing, akin to forgetting you ate asparagus the night before. Soon you remember it’s just a part of the way things are.
As for crab eating contests the road to your double-thick Dixie plate quite possibly began with a former classmate or girlfriend of mine plucking the crustacean from the sea, weighing, packing, shipping, and delivering it, all for a mere $40, even with the price of gas so expensive.
How can you say no to that, especially when you can feed yourself and the athletic budget at the same time? You can even win yourself anything from Man-cations to manicures in the raffles.
Afterward of course comes the dance-floor frolicking which has come a long way, well, maybe not. I’m not sure what our ancestors would think about dancing to music that tells stories about losing keys, cell phones and not being able to see straight.
One might have been sent to the public stocks if they partook in the madness that qualifies as dancing today, or be left to eat saber-toothed tiger all by themselves after the next hunt. But never mind that.
The causes of the spring season of socials are good, so contact your local high school, or booster member about tickets to upcoming crab, rib, tri-tip, steak feeds or support them all.
Kids benefit, so really that’s reason enough to indulge in all you can eat surf, turf and of course a little gyrating around a bonfire, minus the bonfire, and herring eggs disguised as tapioca.
To contact Jeff Lund, e-mail aklund21@gmail.com.
