My wife heard me when I told my friend that my in-laws had descended.
She objected to my terminology, but I explained that I was talking about altitude. All I meant was that their plane was landing.
But she didn’t buy my clarification and insisted I be on my best behavior since her aunts had come all the way from Brooklyn to prepare our big Christmas Eve dinner.
I wouldn’t mind if they were cooking turkey, or ham, or maybe a delicious lasagna.
But no.
Tonight it will be “The Feast of the Seven Fishes.”
It’s an Italian tradition brought here by immigrants some 500 years ago.
So while you’re having that delicious dinner that I can only dream about, we’ll be dining on smelt.
That’s what I said.
Smelt!
I don’t even know what that is, but it doesn’t sound good.
But smelt is only one entrée out of the seven.
There’s also conch.
I don’t know what that is either. I only know Aunt Concetta needed a sledge hammer to bust it out of its shell.
Sadly, we’re not having any traditional seafood tonight, like fried shrimp, or lobster drenched in drawn butter.
Or baked salmon seared with brown sugar.
Perhaps a delicious sea bass or halibut.
No! We’re having smelt.
And octopus.
Also sea urchins, anchovies and eel.
That’s right, eel.
And lutefisk.
Yes, lutefisk.
I never heard of that either, but the aunts say serving it is a popular Christmas custom.
So I looked it up on the Internet:
“Lutefisk is a traditional dish of Europe’s Norse countries. It’s basically cod fish soaked in lye. The dried, salted cod is soaked in cold water for six days, before being soaked in lye solution for two days, or until the PH of the fish reaches 12. That is caustic enough to cause a chemical burn, so it has to go back in cold water for another six days. All you have to do next is steam it for 25 minutes, and voila, dinner is served. Lutefisk has a slimy, gelatinous texture that adds to its repulsive taste and smell.”
That’s what the Internet said: “Repulsive taste and smell.” Not my words.
Another site explained that “Lye is a caustic substance that serial killers use to dissolve dead bodies and janitors use to clean clogged drains. For centuries, Scandinavians have used it to prepare dried whitefish, typically cod, in a dish known as lutefisk.”
So a legitimate question arises. Are the Brooklyn aunts trying to kill us?
I should know by Monday.
If, for some reason, I’m unavailable to provide an answer, perhaps the coroner can.
Aunt Concetta and her sisters say they were able to find all those creatures (some still stirring) at their local fish market back home in Brooklyn.
“I don’t believe they can be found here,” she lamented.
“Perhaps in a museum,” I suggested.
But before they’re able to pack everything in dry ice and transport here, they had to make sure all the fish was properly euthanized. Thanks to their formidable skills, they were able to efficiently dispatch even the most perilous sea creatures using knives, cleavers, a hacksaw and a sledgehammer.
I call it their “battery de cuisine.”
Not quite sure whether that unique skill they possess makes them better qualified to be called chefs or executioners.
In any event, that’s what we’re having for our big Christmas Eve dinner.
Joy to the world.
On Monday, assuming we survive, my wife takes over.
She’ll make roast turkey together with garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom gravy and creamed spinach.
And eggplant Parmesan.
Then she’ll summon me to assist with the annual pasta-making tradition, which includes homemade gnocchi and lasagna.
And while marinara sauce simmers on the stove, we’ll pull out the hardware to assist with the ravioli production.
For dessert, it’s strawberry shortcake.
Now that’s what I call Christmas dinner.
Buon Natale, dear readers.
Erdos is a freelance humor columnist. him at [email protected].
