man i sure could go for a good old fashioned Legion smelt fry….love”em. that and the tater salad!!!!
In the mid-1980s the local legion in the town I won’t name had discontinued its smelt fry because of supply and cost issues. 4 old duffers all in their 80s that were coffee drinking acquaintances of my dad at the local cafe approached him with their tale of woe.
All of them would live miserable lives and die broken men if they couldn’t have a smelt fry every year. They were all too old to fish them and clean them. The work was too hard. The paths too long and steep. They would all die smeltless,
Or perhaps dad could save them? 2 or 3 pails full. Or 4 would be better.
So off we went to the smelt lake, dad recruited the neighbors and we got after them in late March. 2 at a time on ice flies and half a wax worm. As fast as you could pull them up but getting the fly down to 50 feet was what took the longest.
We were there about an hour and here come the 4 codgers trudging across the ice. Risking life and limb to check on dinner. So Dad pressed them into service at the gutting table. 3 hours later they had their buckets full. Salvation was theirs. Almost.
We were packing up and the lead codger says to my dad, “Say, Michael, your wife makes the best potato salad does she not?”
Dad. “Hand me the fillet knife, son. I’m about to commit a murder.”
The lead codger was not deterred. “Could she just bring some to Ted’s garage about 6.00? That’s where we’ll be frying the smelt.”
And now the best part. Almost as a whisper, the lead codger says, “We don’t need too much. Tell Val a gallon and a half is fine.”