Five words, people, five words
All. You. Can. Eat. Walleye.
We were just going out to dinner–mixing it up, planning on getting some tasty thin pizza. We pulled up to the dock and were the only boat there. Is it possible the restaurant is closed on Mondays?, we wondered.
Quite the contrary. Monday night is All You Can Eat Walleye night at the Lonesome Pine on this fair Bay Lake in Northern Minnesota, and the place was packed. Why no boats? The forecast of rain made all the sensible, non-Watson people drive their cars.
For those of you unfortunate enough to be unfamiliar with walleye, it is a fresh water lake fish with delicate white flesh that, when perfectly cooked as it was last night, flakes apart in large, moist, blindingly white opaque shales. We had it deep-fried, pan-fried, and broiled. All were fabulous, but the best was pan-fried. Cornmeal coated, just a bit of grease clinging to it to keep it extra-moist. The coating was less crunchy than the deep-fried version, but the flesh was even more tender and moist, and the coating and flesh were more of a piece, as my grandmother might have said.
All-you-can-eat affairs aren’t usually to my advantage. Great heaping portions in great numbers don’t really appeal to me. But walleye? Which I get once a year? Let’s just say I did my part.
*My dashing husband is not from Minnesota, nor anywhere near it geographically or culturally. When deciding what to order, he asked if he could get a salad. I explained: around here dinner comes with soup or salad and your choice of baked potato, French fries, mashed potato, or rice pilaf. The Lonesome Pine is a modern establishment that also offers vegetables (last night was steamed broccoli, corn on the cob, or grilled zucchini). He smiled, nodded, and said “Old school, I like it.” Yeah, me too.
