Catfish are biting ... at Krogers

Spent hours today on a pontoon boat in north central Kansas fishing for catfish. I love catfish. I grew up in Washington state, where salmon is king. Moved to Montana, where restaurants feature rainbow trout on their breakfast menues. We never ate catfish 'til we moved to the Midwest. I remember years back taking my kids on the train for a day trip from K.C. to the Missouri State Fair, and what I loved best about that hot day was eating fried catfish fingers and sweet potato fries. Elegant, exotic fare for us Northwesterners.

That said, I had never fished for catfish 'til today. I'm no angler, and I shouldn't judge from just one excursion perhaps, but geez, what a stinky, miserable enterprise that was. These bottom feeders go for bait which is starkly similar to what you find inside a baby's dirty diaper. Ten of us and a couple of guides sat on this boat putting our lines deep into the water, waiting as our glops of stinkbait washed off our hooks, then we'd rebait from big buckets of this sticky, foul-smelling goop, inadvertently smearing it on ourselves, yuck, before we put our lines back into the water. Again and again. And every once in awhile somebody would pull up a fish. (Not me, however. Maybe I'd feel better if I'd caught at least one damn fish. Dave did. Nearly everybody else did. But in all, it was a slow day at the Glen Elder reservoir. Fish weren't biting much at all.)

It was a fun outing, don't get me wrong. I enjoyed the beer. I enjoyed hanging out with our friends. I enjoyed snapping a bunch of pictures. And at the end of the day, we pooled our catch to freeze for a big fish fry to be scheduled later, and that I'll enjoy a lot. I'll contribute spicy corn pudding and fresh baked rolls. That I will enjoy.

We got home and I went straight to the grocery story to buy some catfish fillets for supper-- a perfect fishing expedition. I'll fry 'em up in cornmeal coating and make a nice Caprese salad to go with. No fuss, no stinkbait.