I was at the Barbados Festival in Toronto last night near the waterfront. There was live music, dance, and most importantly, food. One of dishes being featured that night was ‘fried fish,’ which is a classic Caribbean dish. Every household has their own recipe, their own style of frying, and their own preference of fish.
This is a short post, not to give you a recipe about how to fry fish or the origins of the first fish fry – this is a personal post to recognize how lucky I am to have two brilliant West Indian cooks at home. After the festival, hoards of people lined up (some waiting for an hour or so) to get the coveted fried fish. Just a couple of weeks ago, when my mom was frying fish my primary concern was to ensure that the smell would not permeate my clothes. Now, standing at the festival I realize how easy it is to take for granted the time and effort our parents put into our meals.
This is why photography is such a huge part of this blog. Photography helps to build positive constructs about how we feel connected (culturally, emotionally, etc) to the food we eat. Rather than see the item as ‘that smelly thing my parents cook,’ I hope to create a story around the labour and love that goes into the food they make.
Next time, I will document the whole process from start to finish so readers at home can try to fry fish themselves (and avoid annoying festival lines).