T.E. Griggs
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These small cats are big on flavor

3/25/2014

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My fishing buddy Bruce Allen hauls in a black bullhead from Deep Creek in California.

I'm bullheaded about insisting that my diet include its fair share of fish, including catfish, especially bullheads.

I've written a couple of times about fish, particularly fried fish, but I don't think I've talked much about bullheads.

The lowly little bullhead is the smallest of all the North American freshwater catfishes, and it has a reputation of being the least desirable because of its bottom-feeding modus operandi. Heck, I'm kind of a bottom feeder myself; I'm not exceptionally intelligent, don't demand fancy things, and I'll eat just about anything that's shoved in front of me. God made bullheads for simple folk like me. And they taste pretty damn good.

Since the Lenten season is here, and those whiskered bullheads are just about the first nibblers of the fishing season, I thought I'd spread a little bullhead – meaning bullhead know-how, or a simple man's wisdom of catching and cooking the lowly bullhead catfish.

My grandfather introduced me to bullheads a long time ago, when I was small lad in Illinois. It was so long ago that I cannot remember catching my first fish, but I'm sure that if it was not a bluegill sunfish, it had to have been a bullhead catfish. During those early years, my grandpa and I caught a lot of bullheads, and my dear grandma would fry them crispy in lard or shortening, after coating them with a perfect mixture of flour, salt and pepper. Grandma was big on pepper.

I pretty much forgot about bullheads during my 20-year career in the U.S. Marine Corps, living in other states and other countries. But when I retired from the Corps and moved my family to the San Bernardino Mountains in Southern California, I rediscovered those tasty little catfish thanks to trout fishing.

Fly fishing and micro-spinning for wild trout in clear mountain streams became my passion, although I didn't mind catching a few smallmouth bass in Lake Arrowhead. One day I was micro-spinning with a barbless, 1/32-ounce, Panther Martin spinner – the only bait I use if not fly fishing – in beautiful Deep Creek on the desert-facing side of our mountain range. I wasn't getting any hits, so I tried fishing it deep under a rock-cliff overhang, jigging it along the bottom, seeing if I could tempt a wild brown trout. When I got a hit, and my rod doubled over, I thought I'd succeeded in hooking a feisty brownie. However, I was more than surprised when I reeled in a chunky, one-pound, black bullhead. My brain was questioning my eyes: What the catfish is going on here?

I threw that bullhead into my hikeable cooler of cold creek water, along with a wild and lively red-banded trout I'd caught, and hiked out of the backcountry to my 4x4 truck and drove home. Dinner that evening received excellent reviews, and the bullhead was the star of the dinner – better tasting than the trout! Suddenly, that black bullhead from that clear mountain stream brought back memories of brown bullheads and yellow bullheads from muddy Illinois creeks. I raised a hand and index finger toward the heavens and announced to my grandfather: "Bullheads are back, Grandpa!"

You can probably catch bullheads in most areas of America, certainly most places east of the Rockies. So, grab your fishin' pole and fryin' pan and get going. Tackle and strategy for bullheads is simple. Four- or six-pound test line will do. Hooks? Shoot, anything from a size 4 to a 2/0, but I prefer the smaller ones. Bait? Worms are fine –  be they nightcrawlers or red wrigglers or whatever you dig up out of your garden.

How do you rig up? Again, simple. The most basic is a hook at the end of the line and a small split-shot weight – size seven to four –  about six to 12 inches above the hook. Or you can buy a special rig – called a bullhead bottom rig – comprised of a 12-inch leader with a casting or bell-type sinker at the end and above it a six-inch dropper line with hook. But you can keep it simple and go with that first option. Bullheads are neither smart nor particularly choosy. You know, kind of like me.

Now you can catch 'em, skin 'em, clean 'em, cook 'em and eat 'em. You do know how cook them, right? Most fish recipes will work. Cook the smaller ones whole, while the bigger ones – they can weigh up to about a pound –  can be filleted, with little or no worry about bones. Sometimes I fillet even the small ones to make what I call bullhead strips or bullhead fingers because they're about the size of a finger. I dust them, coat them or batter them and then fry them. I also fry up some hushpuppies to go with them and a vegetable side dish. Here are a few tips for bullhead strips and hushpuppies:

When cleaned, put the strips into a pot of cool water and salt, and let them soak for a couple of hours – in or out of the refrigerator, doesn't matter. Meanwhile prepare a medium paper bag with an appropriate amount of flour, plus salt, pepper, onion powder and garlic powder. The amount of flour depends how much fish you have – enough flour mixture to generously coat the strips. Add the seasonings to taste. Plop the bullhead strips into the bag and shake to coat them. Then pour some canola oil or your favorite frying oil into a big-enough frying pan or cast-iron skillet, stopping when the oil is no more than an inch deep. Heat the oil to about 375 degrees and fry the coated strips until golden, turning at least once. They take only a few minutes.

And here is a fine recipe for the hushpuppies, given to me by Syble Allen of North Carolina. She's the mother of my longtime buddy and bestest fishing friend, Bruce Allen.

1 cup cornmeal
2 Tbsp. flour
1/4 tsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/3 cup chopped onion
1 egg
Milk to stiffen

Now, listen up. Combine the above ingredients, except for milk. Then add the milk slowly until the mixture stiffens. Form into mushy, sticky balls no bigger than golf balls and place them carefully into the hot bullhead oil after the fish are done and out of there. Cook the balls – or, uh, let's go ahead and say hushpuppies already – until golden brown. You might want to double the recipe, because these things are really good, especially with some creamy butter.

I'll post one more recipe for your bullhead-eating pleasure. This is my bullhead and shrimp Creole recipe, which I came up with after living in New Orleans. This should serve more than four folks, and here's the recipe, starting with ingredients:

Creole seasoning
4 bullheads
1 lb. large shrimp, shelled
1 stick butter
1 tsp. olive oil
1 28-oz. can tomatoes cut up
1 10 1/2-oz. can tomato puree
1 medium onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, smashed
3-4 stalks celery, chopped
2 Tbsp. Tabasco sauce
1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1/2 cup burgundy wine
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp. paprika

Begin by cooking a big pot of rice. While that is cooking, fillet the bullheads and cut into one-inch pieces. Next, shell the shrimp if they're still in shells. Dust the bullhead pieces and shrimp with Creole seasoning. Put the butter and olive oil into a large pot over medium heat. When heated up, add the bullhead, shrimp and garlic, stirring a little bit for just a few minutes, until the shrimp start the get milky and pink, and then remove the bullhead and shrimp to a plate. Put the chopped onions and celery into the pot and cook until soft and glistening. Add all the other ingredients, stir around and around, cover, bring to a slow bubble and simmer for about 45 minutes. Then return the bullhead pieces and shrimp to the pot, stir and cook for another 15 minutes. Finally, on separate deep plates, spoon on generous portions of rice, and ladle on generous portions of bullhead and shrimp Creole. Chow down!

That's certainly gotten my appetite going. Time to get the fishing gear ready!
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Bearcats claw St. Louie visitors

3/19/2014

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Coach Jim Boehne gives the ball to McKendree University reliever Jon Trampe late this afternoon at Hypes Field, with the bases loaded and no outs in the ninth inning, but with McKendree leading the University of Missouri-St. Louis, 10-4. An infield error allowed two more runs, before Trampe shut down the Tritons with a strikeout and a couple of infield grounders. If you're headed for Lebanon, Ill., at the end of the month, the Bearcats will be hosting the University of Southern Indiana on March 29 and 30. Both games start at noon.
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Beef and cabbage can be tasty

3/17/2014

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Saint Patrick is honored each year on this day, which is a good day for drinking a few beers, but I'm not crazy about eating that traditional St. Patty's meal.

The St. Patrick's Day corned beef and cabbage dinner tastes a little bland and boring to me. I have to throw in some Creole seasoning and some Louisiana hot sauce, at the very least. That's like combining St. Patrick's Day and Mardi Gras, and that's just wrong.

I'm sure St. Patrick was a swell fellow, and I do not want to be disrespectful. After all, he is the patron saint of Ireland and drove out all the snakes from the Emerald Isle. And some of my ancestors came from Ireland. So, I'll raise me a pint of beer today, for sure.

However, think about how different things would be if St. Patty had been the patron saint of – oh, let's say, uh – France. Yes, France! And he had chased out all the snakes from all the vineyards and fields there. Think what we might be eating today. I can close my eyes and smack my lips and envision it deliciously.

Today we might be eating chateaubriand and cabbage. Oh, yeah, thick-cut, fired-up, tender fillet of beef, accompanied by French-style braised red cabbage with roasted garlic and bleu cheese. Now we're talking about some good chow. And if you don't like the French beer choices, there's plenty of good wines to pick from. Or, heck, drink some Guinness.

Think about how it would be if St. Patrick had been the patron saint of Korea. It would be time to get culinarily crazy, chowhounds. We could be looking at a dinner of Korean marinated grilled beef with fermented cabbage. That's right! I'm talking about scrumptious beef bulgogi with kimchi, also spelled kimchee, also known as gimchi. Just thinking about it has my taste buds yapping and my brain ready to blow out the top of my head. Fire up the grill and pass me a Korean OB Golden Lager, or a black Irish Guinness, please.

In reality, the corned beef and cabbage tradition isn't really Irish, anyway. I understand that the meal was created in America by Irish immigrants, who wanted to celebrate St. Patrick's Day but who were too poor to buy the expensive bacon and other ingredients traditional to a fine Irish meal. Beef brisket was the cheapest meat, and cabbage was the cheapest vegetable. And that's why every March 17, we have to eat that bland grub and wash it down with tasty beer.

I'm going to hear about this little spiel from some of my friends, who are cooking corned beef and cabbage today. They'll say that my negative take on their cooked-to-death brisket and cabbage was uncalled for and that I exhibited conduct unbecoming of a gyrene – who enjoys almost all food that enters his mouth cavity, even combat rations. All right, I apologize.

But, listen, I have one friend who thinks her corned beef and cabbage dinner is the greatest meal the world has ever known. She takes all day mothering it and caring for it. Then we're invited over to eat it, and my wife raves about how wonderful it is. Of course, my wife is from Norway, where anything cooked all day will probably be appreciated. No offense, Norskies. I, on the other hand, do not adore my friend's brisket and cabbage so much, but I smile and say at least one "Umm." If only I could say, "Can you pass me some more bulgogi, please?"

Oh-oh. If my friend reads this, I'm in trouble with her, too. Oh, geez, and I'm sure I've annoyed some Norwegians also. Listen up, everybody. I apologize again, and my apology is universal and all-encompassing. I'm sorry, OK?

Whatever I am offered to eat today, I shall not complain. I just won't eat so much. Besides, that leaves more room for a bit more brew. 
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Signs of spring begin to show

3/6/2014

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Blue geese wing north early this evening, way up in a beautiful March sky, high above the farmlands near my hometown of Lebanon, Ill. I've seen thousands of blue geese this week, many of them much closer to me than these, but my camera was always out of reach. Yep, not too smart on my part. Anyway, compared to Canada geese, blues and snow geese sound off in higher pitches, in faster and more erratic vocalizations. Their movements and formations also are more erratic than those of Canada geese. Geese and other waterfowl are common here in large numbers, because the western side of Lebanon overlooks the Silver Creek bottomlands, part of the Mississippi Flyway. Growing up here, I hunted waterfowl with my grandfather.
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Fat Tuesday rings in Lententide

3/4/2014

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Laissez les bons temps rouler! C'est Mardi Gras!

In New Orleans French, that means: Let the good times roll! It's Fat Tuesday!

Today is, indeed, Fat Tuesday, more commonly called Mardi Gras. It's time to get your celebration on; time to party hearty; time to get down with your bad self; you know, time to eat, drink and be very merry.

Mardi Gras is always the day before Ash Wednesday, which is the first day of Lent and the beginning of 40 days of fasting and sacrifice.

The tradition of Mardi Gras dates back to medieval Europe. It made its way to the New World with French explorers and settlers, and the first Mardi Gras on our continent was observed in 1703 at Fort Louis de la Louisiane.

In modern times, throughout the greater New Orleans area, Mardi Gras is more than just a day; it's a season. While today is the big day, the season begins during the weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday, with many parades to recognize the Mardi Gras season, or Carnival, beginning in January, but most parades are in February.

My family and I were lucky enough to live in New Orleans for two years, when my two children were very young. They loved the Mardi Gras parades, and we had at least 60 to choose from in the New Orleans area. There were even more than that if you included the entire greater southeast-Louisiana region.

In 1987, our second Carnival there, Mardi Gras fell on March 3. The first parade that year was held Jan. 6, just as it was this year, 2014. I worked in New Orleans, but we lived in the suburb of Kenner, home of the New Orleans International Airport and the annual Okra Festival. Next door was Metairie, home to most of the east-bank parade routes. Each parade was sponsored by a krewe – a krewe is like a Carnival group or social organiztion – and 15 Metairie-area parades entertained us between Feb. 8 and March 3 in the year 1987, hosted by Little Rascals, Saturn, Atlas, Caesar, Rhea, Thor, Centurions, Mardi Gras, Aquila, Diana, Isis, Mercury, Napoleon, Zeus and Argus.

Why did I list them all? I know, my gosh, that was way back in 1987! Listen, I didn't want to leave out any of those krewes, because they took pride in their parades, as I'm sure they all do today.

When I first heard about the krewes, I thought that New Orleanians were talking about "crews." I don't know where the word "krewe" comes from, but I know they put on some great parades. Some of those private Carnival groups or social clubs also throw festive balls or galas for their members. Those we couldn't experience, but I love a parade, and we experienced plenty of them.

For right now, I'm living near St. Louis, and St. Louis puts on a Mardi Gras parade. I don't want to rain on St. Louie's parade, so I'll just say that the Gateway City ain't quite like the Crescent City when it comes to Carnival and parades. But that's OK. New Orleans has neither an iconic arch nor a famous, championship, Major League Baseball team. To each river town, its own.

However, today is Mardi Gras, and I wish I were in New Orleans. I'd snag a spot along the Krewe of Rex parade route and enjoy the colorful and creative floats, while catching some beads and doubloons. Then I'd grab some grub at Maspero's, probably eating fried seafood until it came out my ears. Then I'd have a drink at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop Bar, sipping it appreciatively, while taking in the historic atmosphere in what's purported to be the oldest bar in America. Then I'd stop at Preservation Hall to hear some genuine New Orleans jazz, hanging on every note and loving them all. Then I'd stroll over to Pat O'Brien's and drink me a Hurricane. Pat's is still there, right? Of course, it is, and it's been there since 1933, right? Then, well, then I should head back to the hotel and not over do it. I don't want a hangover on Ash Wednesday. That would be like wasting a precious day in old New Orleans, a day that would be perfect with some wake-up goodies at Café du Monde, followed by, oh, a walking tour of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.

Maybe next year. Today, at least, I can observe the Mardi Gras tradition of the beouf gras, or the fattened bull. Or it is a cow? Whatever it is, it won't appear to me as a symbol or as a parade float. It will appear on my plate, in the form of a big, juicy, thick piece of fatty beef and will be washed down with a smooth cabernet. Should I include pommes frites or baked potato? Doesn't matter. Let the good times roll!

Say, who ordered the king cake? Did somebody order the king cake?
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    Author

    T.E. Griggs is a writer, editor and photographer and a retired U.S. Marine.

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