So this morning I was getting ready to take my son and his friend on an excursion when I noticed our dog, Patches, with something akin to a small piece of plywood in his mouth. As I got closer to Patches, I realized that he wasn’t chomping on plywood, rather he had a big piece of dried fish in his mouth. Dried fish? I thought to myself–where would he have found dried fish???? I then saw that he had 3 pieces of large dried fish, not one. With a slow awareness, I realized that Patches must have snagged the lunch of one of our workers. At this point, my girlfriend says, “Well, I guess you’ll be buying someone some lunch today…”.
I know, who eats dried fish in Hotchkiss, you ask? The story gets better because we have a handful of workers here on the farm from Myanmar. Really. As in, the former Burma. And yes…they eat dried fish (as does our Australian Shepherd). I knew my morning excursion was now going to involve a trip to City Market, where I would find some fish. I don’t even like fish! Don’t like it, don’t eat it and certainly don’t know how to cook it. Peaches yes, fish no. Twenty-five dollars later, I was heading back home, lighting up the grill and soliciting feedback on the best way to grill fish for that “Best Dried Fish Taste”.
Have I mentioned that I found a big ‘ol pile of fish drying on top of their car? Maybe dogs and cats don’t jump on top of things in Myanmar? Yes, so I did locate the source of Patches delight: a pile, and I do mean a pile of fish soaking up the sun, on top of a navy blue sedan. Classic. I rode out into the orchard (not on a white horse, rather my trusty Trek mountain bike) and looked for the staff who speaks a little English. (It was at this point that I hopped off my bike, stepped in a hole and sprained my ankle, but that’s beside the point). I was able to marginally communicate the dog-ate-your-fish story and with a great deal of “no problem’s”, the fish was safely tucked back into their car. And the salmon and talapia that I grilled? Well, I hope they enjoyed it. If they didn’t, I know a dog who would…
