Greek Fishermen

…snotty masses of oily, fishy mackerel roe, wrapped in a translucent membrane and poached just until it’s lukewarm. Then you bite a hole in the side of the eggsac and squeeze it down your throat like frosting from a piping bag. Except it’s not frosting. It’s fish eggs.

Greek fishermen have this as breakfast before they go out for the day, chasing it with a shot of warm Ouzo. The oldest of them all, now unable to go to sea, squints through the cataract in his one remaining eye and grunts a surly farewell as they push off from shore. He absently scratches the circular scar on his chest, the sucker-mark from so long ago. He drinks more Ouzo and cleans tiny squid all morning, a small revenge.

If you slit open a Greek fisherman all you get is clam muck and a few gold coins, maybe a clay jar — and these are only rarely filled with oil, let alone wine. Mostly they’re just full of more muck. But every once in a while you come across a rusted telescope, an astrolabe stuck at thirty six degrees, a small bronze cannon covered in mussels.

–Steve Kilian


The Tipsy Parson: November 3 2009


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: